Music Sounds Better With You
by Hate Finding Usernames
Summary: Five-part snapshot view of Beca and Jesse's lives together. "On more than a few occasions, she's sleepily opened one eye to find him staring at her unabashedly... She's given up telling him off for it. Now she tends to just stare right back."
1. Beginning

**The accumulation of too much ignoring of assignments and getting too wrapped up in rereading basically everything ****_stopthenrewind_**** has published (giant squishy hug to you for making me feel like a giant puddle of goo with your stories; also, I borrowed one of your plots... What a theif).**

**P.S. giant apologies to readers of, well, all of my stories. I suck, I know. Give me a week and I will back to my usual updating routine, I swear.**

* * *

**BEGINNING**

_"Some things, some things just make sense_

_And one of those is you and I_

_some things, some things just make sense_

_and even after all this time_

_Im into you."_

_- Still Into You, Paramore_

* * *

The first thought she has about him isn't even _about _him.

She's tired; jet legged from the flight across the country, and it doesn't really mix all that well with the 'complete contempt towards her standing here right now' emotion, that has her so on edge she might just have to turn the peppy blonde in front of her into a punch bag.

Deep inside of her, far behind the I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude she's trying to extrude, Beca wants to cry. Never before has she felt quite so out-of-place. Or wrong. Or alone. (For a girl who tends to keep everyone at arms' length, she sure does wish she had someone right about now.)

She tries to pay attention to the blonde, but the tears are sharp as they burn behind her nose and she's trying to focus on _not _becoming hysterical within the first five minutes of being here in this God forsaken place. For half a second, she wishes she'd asked her dad to pick her up from the airport – she really could not stand out any more with a taxi instead of a parent's car; she can feel people staring - but then her rational side kicks in and she flicks the pesky thought away.

And there's, of course, _the car_.

He catches her looking his way almost instantly, which she regrets because it's not like she consciously glanced over, but once he twists to face her properly, she can't quite seem to _look away_.

And there's the first thought.

_What kind of place have I walked into?_

He carries on singing, but now he's singing _at _her, with his boyish face and this half smile as he starts to mimic the guitar solo that is almost a tiny bit infectious – or would be, if she wasn't completely weirded out by the whole thing.

Gone as quickly as he'd appeared, she finds herself staring after him. She tries not to focus on the way the whole display makes her smile, just for a moment.

(Which is weird, because she doesn't even _like _Kansas.)

* * *

Jesse.

_Jesse._

Jesse…

Hm.

"It's weird," she clarifies out loud.

"Excuse me?"

Beca hadn't really intended on speaking a loud, especially after spending a good few minutes rolling his name around on her tongue, but since she has and he's heard, she goes with it. "Your name. It's weird."

Jesse's poking his head out around the shelves, his dark eyes tracking her as she walks surreptitiously away from him and towards an area that's a little… Safer. "So's yours."

"No it's not."

"My name is no weirder than yours."

Turning on her heel to face him again, she watches him watch her. "Is it short for something?"

They've shared two shifts over five days, and she's guessing the weird look on his face is because this is most likely the first time she's struck up a conversation with him. "Uh, yeah, kinda. James."

The two CDs in her hands clack against each other as she taps them anxiously, oddly intrigued by the guy in front of her that is the only person who seems to have made much of an effort with her. "What's wrong with James?"

"I don't like it."

"Why?" Her eyes narrow. So do his.

"Why are you so interested?"

"I –" But she stops, because she doesn't have a real answer. Twisting on her heel again, she walks to the shelves parallel to him, even though the discs in her hands belong on the other side of the room, where he is. "It doesn't matter."

Jesse doesn't speak up again and she looks instead at the album covers. Yup, they definitely don't belong over here. She stuffs them in anyway, figuring she can find a way to come back later and correct it.

"Harry Potter," he blurts, so alarmingly close to her that she actually squeaks a little as she jumps back, knocking right into him. "Oh, sorry."

Once she's fixed herself and shaken off the tingles in her fingers from the fright, she faces him properly and pointedly ignores the giant grin that is engulfing his face. "What's Harry Potter got to do with it?"

His shoulder lifts in a lazy shrug, the other arm rising to slide a bunch of CDs into a gap on the top shelf above her. He dwarfs her, and she thinks he does it on purpose. "I was, like, ten when I first read them, and I… There was a girl in my class called Lily, and everyone teased us about Harry Potter's parents, and I didn't really like Lily all that much."

A smile pulls at the corners of her mouth. "So… You changed your name?"

"Yes."

He says it with such ease that she can't quite keep the smile under control as she laughs at the bemused expression he gives her. "You really are a weirdo, aren't you?"

The grin on his face reaches maximum capacity. "_Yes_."

* * *

It occurs to her at precisely 10:02pm that she actually… Well, she kinda _digs_ on this guy.

It's weird.

(And she doesn't know why the word 'digs' is even in her head, but it seems to be the only appropriate word she can think of.)

Jesse's unwavering persistence towards her is about as confusing as it is flattering, and okay, his whole, I-will-not-rest-until-you-accept-me-as-your-friend thing might actually be starting to work… Just enough that she had mentioned him in passing to her mother as "her friend…ly guy person from the station" (not that she has any intention of letting him know his status has changed; she selfishly quite likes the way he always seems to be trying to find a way to make her laugh, and the way she can bounce off him and he doesn't just take it, he gives as good as he gets).

The point being, she hasn't really noticed that she actually sort of likes him until this moment.

(No, she doesn't like him _that _way. But she can tolerate him. Which is more than can be said for about 97% of the college's population.

Anyway.

Beca knows the time because it's when Justin is halfway through reciting the rules of this 'Riff Off' thing, that Jesse catches her eye (and subsequently holds it for most of the evening) and mouths those four little words.

_I'm taking you down._

She mouths back in her own typical way, but she _does_ care. She cares that she likes him, she cares that he's taken an interest, and she cares that suddenly all she wants to do is beat him, because if he wins this thing, she'll never hear the end of it.

No way is she letting _that _happen.

* * *

When Jesse leans towards her two nights after, when his gaze keeps flickering between her eyes and her lips, and when they seem to be suspended in this weird, perfect moment, Beca is surprisingly ready for whatever it is that's happening.

Until she's not.

She overthinks it, as she does pretty much everything, and within half a second her mind has breezed through a hundred possibilities of how this is going to end, how much it will end up hurting, and has calculated the risk that closing the tiny gap between their faces will ultimately destroy the only real friendship she's actually developed in her few months at Barden.

It's not worth it.

She's sure of it.

So she pulls away, because the flicker of disappointment she sees in his face and feels in her gut is a lot less intense than the heartbreak that kissing him will most likely lead to.

* * *

Sitting in the station booth should probably feel better than this. She should be celebrating that Luke had broken his own rule to allow her here, playing music – music _she's _made – and being in control. Even if there's probably only a handful of people listening, it's enough. She's happy, really; she's more than that. Elated. Ecstatic. Overjoyed.

The station feels empty without him.

It's all she can think about, staring at the queued up music and the view of the thousands of CDs she's been stacking for months now. With him. With Jesse. And about an hour before it had occurred to her why the picture in front of her is so _wrong_; why she's been miserable ever since she walked away from everything that had kept her grounded at this ridiculous school.

(Yes, the Bella's count. She'd become surprisingly attached to them, too.)

Beca had liked him.

Like really, _really_ liked him. In a way that probably was actually quite unhealthy.

And she thinks that in past tense because she's now painfully aware that it's so much more than that. That Beca actually is past tolerating him; she's past liking him as a friend; she is past being into him in that way that makes her smile a little in the mornings. She has genuine, messing-up-your-heart, goo-goo eyed feelings that seem to crop up when he's around or when he texts or when he's just playing on her mind (which is a lot more often than she'd like to admit).

Except he's not around anymore, and he doesn't text or call or anything anymore.

All she's left with is his memory, infecting her and working its way into her DNA and changing her up into this person she doesn't even recognise anymore.

* * *

A door is shut in her face.

So she turns to her own metaphorical door, the one she had slammed shut on the Bella's. Well, she does that after visiting _another _door; her fathers. He turns out to be surprisingly helpful for a man who walked out on his daughter.

Point being; after Chloe knocks on this metaphorical door (in the form of a text about the Bella's being back on for nationals) and Beca has finally gotten off her backside and opened it (by biting the bullet and confronting them at rehearsals), she is surprised at how warmly her reappearance is welcomed. Even by Aubrey, who – in an either bigger surprise that no one had been expecting – relinquishes her death grip over the group to her.

But Beca isn't happy with the whole 'one door closes, another opens' thing, so she makes it her mission to use the six days they have to plan and rehearse for nationals (gulp) to her complete advantage.

If there's one thing you can say about Beca Mitchell, it's that she's determined.

And right now, she's determined to show Jesse she's worth something, that she made him wait but that she's ready now, and she's prepared to spend her whole life apologising for how she acted if it means she gets to have him back in her life because _he's _worth it. Jesse is completely worth anything she's had to go through, that she'll have to go through, because at the end of it all, he'll be the one standing by her side.

She hopes.

* * *

"So this is it."

Beca glances up at him with her lips pressed together, trying not to mirror the strange mix of emotions in his expression. She knows this is a big day; that it's a weird day, but she tries not to let the intensity of it overwhelm her. She tries to stay detached, to stay safe.

It isn't working, but she lies to herself to feel better.

"This is it." Her arms hang at her side, and she wonders what to do. This is all such new territory to her.

Luckily, Jesse is pretty damn good at playing to these kind of situations perfectly, so when he steps forward and wraps his arms around her in a hug, she lets herself cling to him. It's weird, but a good weird. She could get used to this, she thinks.

"I can't believe this year is over," he whispers in her ear, making her shiver.

She nods and holds him just a little closer. "It's definitely been… Something?"

"Unusual," he agrees.

"Peculiar."

"Terrifying."

"A learning curve."

"Thrilling."

"Life changing," she whispers, pulling back to look at his face, his soft smile so close that his breath washes over her. Life changing is definitely an appropriate summary of her year. Barden has been life changing. The Bella's have been life changing. Jesse has been life changing.

She can't bring herself to hate it, though. (Even if it sounds completely cheesy and ridiculous.)

A hand comes up to cup her jaw and he kisses her, so softly that she finds her heart fluttering rather quickly. Everything he does seems to affect her so strangely, and she's not used to it at all but it's exciting and now she's allowed him in - now she has let him see her, that excitement is a _good thing_. It's still terrifying, but this fear is a good kind of fear.

"You know, for the record, I'm really glad you changed your mind," he murmurs, still holding her cheek because, in a few minutes, he won't be able to do that for so very long. She lets the feel of his skin on hers imprint itself in her memory.

"What do you mean?"

"To let us be… Us." He brushes his fingers over her cheek bone and through her loose hair, mirroring the smile she can't quite suppress despite how completely cheesy he is (she kind of likes the cheesy, though. She thinks she might just enjoy having it around). "You could have left us as we were, but you took a risk, and I'm really glad."

"Well, it's all part of my elaborate plan to take down the Trebles from the inside."

"Mhm. I'm glad you're not the only one with ulterior motives."

Her smile falters. "What?"

"I want to persuade you to go back to the old uniform. You in that flight attendant outfit with the tight skirt –" He's cut off by her hand slapping his chest when he bites his lip and tries to look over her shoulder and down her back.

"You are such a pig."

Jesse pulls her hair playfully and she gasps. "Yeah, well I'm _your _pig." He pauses, staring back at her incredulous expression. "That sounded… Sexier in my head…"

"Yeah," she splutters around her laugh, "Because there's a context that sentence can actually be sexy in."

"Okay, okay." Jesse holds his hands up defeat, stepping away from her but she follows him, determined to spend every second she can as close to him as possible. Arm snaking back around her back, he kisses her forehead, lips lingering as she closes her eyes peacefully. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Depends."

"Why did you wait?" Tilting her head back, she frowns, so he elaborates, "At the finals. You did the song, but why'd you wait?"

Beca just stares, waiting for the moment that he realises the answer, his mouth forming a little 'O'. She lets her lips skim over his as she attempts to diffuse any residual tension. "Your mom offered me a ton of money to do it, and I really wanted these… New..."

He grins at her with _that _look in his eyes until she teeters out, and she wants to kiss him again but neither wants to make the final move to close the impossibly tiny gap between them. "You know you basically just admitted to being a prostitute."

She looks at him through her eyelashes, raising a coy eyebrow as his eyes dilate. "Hey, if Julia Roberts can find her Richard Gere, so can I."

He groans, tightening his grip on her hips. "Why do I find it so hot when you reference movies."

"Because you're a total nerd."

He gives in – as they both knew he would – and his lips are hard against hers, letting all the emotions that can't be formed into words flow between them. She will miss him; will miss the first person to try - the first person to _succeed_. Their months together since finals have been perfect, but it's fragile and so new that she worries if they will last the summer apart. But then she remembers all they have made it through already, and she thinks they just might be able to work it out.

A few minutes later, when his phone has buzzed persistently three times in his pocket, he finally lets her go, placing a last lingering kiss on her lips before closing the door behind him. Beca watches him leave, staring out the window at his car disappearing from sight, and though she misses him a little already, she knows that this time, Jesse will be coming back to her.

* * *

If you ever hear someone whispering about how Beca watches Jesse sleep, then slap them immediately. Because she doesn't. That rumour isn't even a little bit true.

It's more just… Observing. She likes to make sure he's still breathing, and her hand is only over his heart because she wants to check its still beating; checking his pulse properly would be too awkward to explain if he woke up.

And she's not even _watching _that closely. It's just that sometimes she can't sleep for any multitude of reasons, and it's nice to just know he's there beside her when she sleeps over, or he sleeps over… Honestly, she can't remember the last time they spent the night apart. Maybe last month. She tries not to think too hard about that.

Besides, they're generally fully/partly clothed. It's not like they're at it like rabbits or anything - at least not as much as Stacie claims. It's more due to things like, they study late and she can't be bothered to walk back to her room, or he somehow talks her into watching a movie and they fall asleep on her bed, or they're just too comfy to bother over kicking the other out. It's convenient (and his bed is way more comfortable than hers). There's something about being around him that puts her at ease, and she's not put her finger on it yet but she doesn't question it; it's too pleasant to start overthinking.

The point being, she does _not _watch him while he sleeps - she knows he does though. On more than a few occasions, she's sleepily opened one eye to find him staring at her unabashedly, his fingers rubbing little circles into her lower back. She's given up on telling him off for it. Now she tends to just stare right back.

* * *

Somewhere along the way during sophomore year, her priorities seem to get a little muddled up.

School work becomes more important, now she's signed herself up to maybe actually leaving college with some form of degree. She studies, a lot, because she missed out on a lot during the first year and apparently that stuff is actually important. Thanks to her faculty connections, she gets a bit of extra help from the professors, and Jesse seems to make it his personal mission to help her out as much as he can towards her major of Music Production.

The Bella's kind of take over her world – but in a really good way. Being the "Main Bella Bitch", as Amy has so lovingly nicknamed her, comes with a serious amount of responsibility and an even larger amount of admin work – she actually feels pretty sorry for Aubrey, and can see why the girl had so many stress-related issues. She struggles alone for a while, trying to juggle everything in her schedule best she can, until Stacie knocks on her door the night before Regionals and gives her an offer Beca simply can't refuse.

Stacie takes over choreography (under Beca's supervision still, because some of the more… provocative moves don't really need to be seen outside of a strip club) and takes half of the work load, which actually allows Beca to breathe properly, especially after she whittles down her hours at the station. The workload is split even further when Cynthia Rose offers to tackle any financial related paperwork. "Date Night" is reinstated, though she and Jesse normally just end up in the campus diner, laughing over a plate of nachos.

Both groups breeze through regionals and the semi-finals, the Trebles benefitting from Unicycle's relaxed attitude better than any of them thought they would, but they're no match for the Bella's come finals. Still, the Trebles aren't in any way bitter, instead helping the girls celebrate. The way Jesse smiles at all night, proud as can be, keeps a steady flush on her cheeks but she doesn't mind it, really. Their year together has been a great one, and that night, she starts to let herself believe that they might even have a good few more.

* * *

Of course, their relationship is not without its problems. Their first major blow up comes a week after regionals, when they visit London to perform at a benefit held with their partner university just outside the city:

Her hand is raised before he can even open his mouth to speak. "Save it, I don't want to hear it."

"Beca, wait –"

"Ooh he's gonna get it now!" Kolio singsongs from behind them as the Treble's file out of the police station – though Beca's rage is probably a hundred times scarier than anything they faced in there last night.

"Shut up," Beca and Jesse snap at him, and Beca storms back to the minibus ahead of them as Amy opens the doors and shrinks away from Beca's scowl.

"All of you, on. You're on lockdown for the rest of the trip." Beca points into the minibus and glares pointedly at each of them, making sure it's clear that just because she has no actual power over them doesn't mean she won't use her role as Main Bella Bitch to make sure all of the girls help with this demand.

Jesse is pouting as he tries to slink past her, but she grabs him roughly by the collar. "Not you; we're having a little chat first."

Dragging him a little ways away, she keeps her lips pressed tightly together as he begins to grapple for an excuse. "I'm sorry, Bec, it was a total mistake, I don't even know how to happened – I think Unicycle talked us into it – it just got out of hand and –"

"Jesse," she hisses angrily, eyes wild with fury, "_you defiled a national monument!_"

He grimaces. "Defiled isn't the word I'd use –"

"Do you have _any _idea how much trouble you are in?" she demands as she punches his arm. "You know that you could get suspended, right? Or worse, _expelled_…"

The corner of Jesse's lips twitches so she hits him again.

"This isn't funny, Jesse! You got _arrested _for being drunk and disorderly in another country!"

"Bec, come on, it's really not that bad," he reasons calmly, placing his hand on her arm, "Let's just go back to the hotel and we can talk about this properly when you've calmed down."

Beca sees red. "Calm down? _Calm down?_ Oh my - I'd strangle you if it weren't stupid to commit an offense right by a police station."

"It was a drunken mistake –"

Beca scoffs, tucking her windswept hair behind her ear and crossing her arms against the chill that creeps up her spine. "Just because the legal drinking age is lower here doesn't mean you can just go out and get completely off your face!"

"You were with us too!" he splutters.

"Until you _abandoned _us!"

"You said you were fine on your own, we just wanted to have a look at some other places!"

Her eyebrows rise in feigned shock. "Oh, I'm _sorry_, I thought it was because you were looking for more girls to hit on."

"Why would I do that? I have you." He tiptoes closer, rubbing his hands up her arms but she bats them away.

"Not for very much longer."

He shouts after her as she turns to storm back to the bus, "Beca, come on. Bec, really, you can't be serious –"

"Damn right I'm serious!" Beca spins on her heels, glaring resolutely at him. "Do you have any idea how much it costs to bail ten apparent children out of jail?! Ashley had to offer money from her trust fund to pay for you all!"

Jesse just stares at her helplessly. "I… I'm sorry."

"You better be." Beca is mortified to realise there are actually tears stinging the backs of her eyes, so she looks away and points at the bus, the anger behind her voice dissipating with each syllable. "Just get on the bus so we can leave."

Beca doesn't speak to him for the rest of the day, determined to prove her point that he is a_complete idiot_, and she manages it until late that night when he sneaks into their hotel room and perches of the empty side of the bed, his hand gently lying on her calf under the sheets.

"Beca? You awake?"

She stares at the wall, unmoving, the silence expanding between them until she croaks out a simple, "No."

"Okay." Another pause, and the mattress shifts as he crosses his legs underneath him. "You were worried about me."

"No."

He tries again, "You were scared."

"No."

"I didn't come back, and you didn't know why."

A tear streaks down her already stained face, but she keeps quiet, clutching the corner feather pillow desperately. Jesse eventually begins to move, lying down behind her, his hand moving to her hip, and they lie like that for what feels like forever, until her eyes are too heavy to fight and she rolls over into his body, burrowing her face into his chest and letting him hold her close. They fall asleep in a cloud of unspeakable emotion, but maybe things will be better come morning.

* * *

"_Simply having-_"

"Jesse –"

"_A wonderful Christmas time!_"

"Jesse –"

"_Snow is falling, all around me_ –"

"It's Georgia, there is no –"

"_Children playing! Having fun!_"

Beca ducks from under his arm, standing perfectly still as her slightly oblivious (and definitely drunk) boyfriend continues without her. They have spent the evening partying with their fellow aca-people (Aubrey had been dragged along by Chloe; it made for an eventful night of mockery that is now sticking in her head) before they leave for home the next morning. Jesse - who is the biggest light weight Beca has ever met - had to be forcibly removed from the karaoke machine, and when he tried to hug her former captain and current friend Aubrey, Beca knew it was time to put him to bed.

She crosses her arms and waits, ashamed that it takes a good half a minute for him to realise his arm is no longer trapping her to his side. He turns, the most adorably confused expression on his face, and she bites her lip hard to keep herself from smiling and rushing back to his side. He has made her soft over their year and a half together, sure, but not _that _soft.

"Beca?" He wobbles back towards her, his feet following the line of the paving stones like a tight wire. Taking a sudden interest in the cloudy night's sky, she pays him no attention (even when he stumbles, gracelessly falling to one side), her toes tapping impatiently against the ground.

He is so quiet that she doesn't notice him invading her personal space until he has her hips between his hands, lips grazing her forehead. On instinct she leans into his touch, failing to keep up her rouse, waiting for the usual grovelling that will most definitely end in a spectacular kiss. (Not that she pretends to be mad him at regularly to get these kisses, oh no. That's definitely not a thing.)

However, Jesse has other plans. Before she can register what is happening, he's gripped her hips tight and thrown her over his shoulder, continuing his loud singing over her surprised squeal as the world flips upside down.

"Jesse Swanson!" she shrieks. "Put me down this instant!" She pummels her fists into his back, flailing her feet to no avail. His grip is determined and secure.

"_It was Christmas Eve babe…In the drunk tank! An old man said to me, won't see another one_…"

"Jesse let me go!"

"Only if you sing along!"

She huffs. "You can_not_ be serious right now!"

"_And then he sang a song, the Rare Old Mountain Dew. I turned my face away… And dreamed about you!_"

"You're insane! Put me down!" she yells, trying to stop herself checking out his butt from the new angle. His only response is to keep singing - off key - and to adjust her on his shoulder, making her yelp again.

"_Got on a lucky one. Came in eighteen to one! I've got a feeling, this year's for me and you_…"

There is no way out of this, she knows. Most people have already returned home for the holidays so no one will likely hear her screams. Her phone is in her pocket, inconveniently jammed between his neck and her thigh. And even if she can somehow call her friends, she knows none of them will come to her aid. They'll think this is _cute._

So she swallows her pride, closes her eyes, and does as she is told.

"_So happy Christmas, I love y-_"

"No!" he cries, smacking her backside with his free hand. She squeals (she really needs to get a grip on that) and growls at him. "It's not your bit yet!"

Beca rolls her eyes but lets him continue, much to her chagrin. She won't let him know that this is all rather amusing to her; that she actually kind of enjoys this display of half manly, half ridiculous Jesse-ness; she really shouldn't encourage the sexy manhandling (or maybe she should, because his strong arms wrapped around her thighs and this new view of him is really something else).

"_So happy Christmas, I love you baby! I can see a better time…When all our dreams come true_."

She rolls her eyes again and begins to mumble along, embarrassed. "_They've got cars big as bars, they've got rivers of gold_."

"Louder!"

"_But the wind goes right through you; It's no place for the old! When you first took my hand on a cold Christmas Eve, you promised me Broadway was waiting for me!" _She turns up her own volume, hating how this is almost fun to do_. "You were handsome_ –"

"_You were pretty! Queen of New York City_!" he cuts in, reaching the door of Baker Halls, fumbling with the door handle as he tries to keep Beca safely on his shoulder.

"_When the band finished playing, they howled out for more. Sinatra was swinging, all the drunks they were singing. We kissed on the corner then danced through the night_," they sing together as she smacks the beat on the back of his thighs and feels his chuckle vibrate through her stomach.

"_The boys of the NYPD choir were singing 'Galway Bay'. And the bells are ringing out for Christmas day_!" Jesse climbs the stairs with a little difficulty, their voices echoing around them, blending together, slightly off key. Beca blames her behaviour on all the blood rushing to her head.

As they acapella the backing tune, Jesse finally lets her down by her door, but before she can get her bearings or wipe the smile off her face, he's backed her against the wall and is invading her personal space again, hips pressing into hers. He enjoys doing that, she's noticed; invading her little bubble and making her forget her train of thought.

Beca's singing teeters out as she sees the intensity of his gaze and finds her hands dancing up his arms, around his neck, into his hair. He makes no other move than to just _stare_ at her, and with the frustration of someone who has just been forcibly carried home on her drunk boyfriend's shoulder, she tugs his lips to hers, kissing him hard.

The length of his body presses her further against the wall and she fights back the moan growing in her throat. Jesse takes advantage of the moment, his tongue delving into her mouth. The moan escapes and she digs her nails into his scalp, arching into him as a firm hand runs down her back and slides past the waistband of her jeans. The chill of his fingers makes her hiss and his other hand makes its way into her hair, bunching it tightly in his fist as he bites down on her neck.

Unsatisfied, she flips him, knowing he will fight her back. He pushes off the wall and aims at the opposite, and Beca takes the opportunity to wind her legs around his waist, gripping him tightly with her thighs as he groans into her shoulder. She pulls his lips back to hers, her whole body vibrating in excitement. Her hands grasp at his back, trying to find any way to somehow bring him impossibly closer, his shirt riding up so much that she tugs to take it off altogether.

She doesn't know how he manages it, but he gets her door open, and they stumble towards the bed. She squeaks as he drops her to the mattress, his bare chest quickly within reach for her to explore, his shirt forgotten in the hallway.

* * *

His first uttering of those three words comes, in true Jesse fashion, during the viewing of a movie. Its difficult to remember the title; she just knows that he whispers them in her ear in time with his favourite character, and she never sees the ending because they are otherwise occupied.

_Her_ first time takes a little longer - two months and five days, to be exact - and is a complete accident. They're sitting in the branches of a tree, hidden from the rest of the world, and he's telling her this ridiculous story that makes her laugh so hard that the words just slip out.

"I love you."

* * *

It takes him almost two years to convince her, but finally Beca lets him drag her to his hometown to meet his parents.

It takes about five seconds to screw it up.

It's not her fault, not really (okay, so it is a little bit); she ends up arguing with Jesse halfway through the five hour drive, a fight that starts out over something tiny and pathetic and then, spurred by boredom and the fact Jesse seems to plan to let her wet herself than pull over as a service station, the whole thing turns into a complete car wreck (very nearly almost literally).

A truck that apparently comes from nowhere swerves dangerously close as it pulls into their lane, and Jesse freaks out enough that Beca demands he pull over and they switch seats. He consents under a violent threat, and by the time they reach the Swanson residence, the only talking they've done in two hours is when Jesse gives her directions.

"Beca," Jesse ventures tiredly as they pull into his street, "We need to talk about this."

"Nothing to talk about," she replies in a low tone, looking out closely for number 36 as a means to keep her distracted.

"You really want to meet my family when we're like this?"

"No, Jesse," she spits out, "I _don't _want to meet your family – at all. You know I don't so what are we even doing here?!"

But rather than snap at her like she expects, his face goes from hurt to a long look of sudden understanding, the change so confusing that she shifts awkwardly in her seat as she comes to stop outside of the house Jesse had grown up in. "Is that what this is about?" he finally muses. "You're nervous about meeting them."

Beca stares at the typical suburban home, watching the curtains twitch and feeling that awful, gut-wrenching feeling in her gut spark to life again. "No."

Jesse doesn't seem to believe her. "I've known you for three years now, Bec, give me a little more credit than that."

"I…" She tries to carry on speaking, but she can't, so she snaps her jaw shut until she's found the words. "What if they don't like me?"

"Impossible," he says immediately, laying his hand over hers on the steering wheel. "I'm told I'm a great judge of character; if I like you, so will everyone else."

Beca turns to look at him, swallowing thickly when she finds him closer than she expects. "Promise?"

"I pinkie swear." He smiles at her before kissing her softly, and she thinks she might just get through this - she can cope with a week around his parents and maybe she can even get them to like her –

Expect they get a little… Distracted.

And somewhere in the process of seeking intimacy to reassure herself and Jesse's general overenthusiasm around her, his hand ends up on her knee and somehow that hits the wrong pedal because they lurch forward.

Straight into a street light.

"_Shit!_" she squeaks in panic, immediately pulling Jesse's face away to check him over. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, you?" he asks in a daze, eyes flickering between her face and the front of the car, but Beca doesn't reply; she's too busy unclipping her seatbelt to check the damage of the concertinaed bonnet outside, smoke billowing out of the engine.

"Shit shit shit shit _shit!_" Beca yelps as she runs her fingers through her hair.

"Oh my God! Are you kids okay?!"

"Does this look okay?!" Beca says helplessly, full attention on the damage to the bumper. "Oh _fuck _your mother is going to kill me!"

A coughing alerts her enough to look up, and Beca pales at the sight of a short, middle aged women beside Jesse, staring at the scene with horrified eyes.

"Beca, this is my mom," Jesse says as seriously as he can, but his nostrils are flaring with the effort to not laugh at the expression on her face. "Mom, this is my Beca."

Beca glances helplessly between them, convinced that she's definitely screwed this up before it's even begun. She _knew _this was a bad idea; now look at them. "Mrs Swanson," Beca finally says in a shaky voice, holding out her trembling hand towards her. "So nice to meet you."

Jesse's mom accepts her hand cautiously, attempting a smile. "Likewise."

"Beca your uh…" Jesse taps his lip. "You're bleeding."

Beca dabs at her bottom lip, retracting her hand to find a small amount of blood, and she glares at him as the nostril flaring starts again. The idiot had _bitten _her, and apparently he knows it too.

"I'll um, I'll call the shop," Mrs Swanson says awkwardly, pointing towards the house and rushing away in her house slippers. Jesse snorts on his laughter as he steps towards Beca, letting her collapse into his chest as she groans loudly in despair.

"You know," Jesse says around his chuckling, "I think she likes you."

* * *

You know that feeling you get, when you have this giant amount of work to do and it's all piled up, and there's not enough time in the world to get it done - never mind in a day - and there's that quiet little voice in the back of your head that is whispering "_why bother? If you're not going to finish, why even start?" _and you know you shouldn't listen… But there's _so _many other things you could be doing – like catching up on your favourite TV show, or getting a start on that pile of books under your bed that you've been promising yourself you'll get around to but never do – and really, you're just tired and fancy a day spent moulding the couch cushions into the perfect shape for your body…

Yeah, _that _feeling.

(And if you say you don't know it, you're lying.)

Well, Beca has that right now.

And she's trying, she really is… But that forced effort isn't getting her anywhere. She'd much rather be… Well, she'd rather be doing _anything _really. Anything is better than the hundreds of tabs open, full of spreadsheets and complicated words and pages of writing so long that the scroll bar is infinitely tiny and _absolutely no pictures._

Really, would it _kill_ them to throw in a little jpeg every once in a while? Just to keep people like herself from slamming their foreheads against their desk until their brains are splayed out for the world to see?

"Finals angst?" Jesse walks through the front door to find her on his living room floor, textbooks and lecture notes and all mannerisms of utter nonsense spread out across the coffee table and the floorboards around her.

"Is it possible to drown in useless knowledge?" she groans unhappily, watching him throw his jacket and keys on the table by the door and hopping over the arm of the couch to sit behind her. Immediately, his thumbs are digging into her shoulders, working at the tension there as she moans appreciatively.

"You're gonna be great," he mumbles into her ear. "I can see it now; Beca Mitchell, graduating top of her class."

She rolls her eyes, though it might be due more to Jesse finding a particular spot that makes her whole body feel like goo. "You're going to be bitterly disappointed then."

"In you? Never."

Beca bites her lip against another moan, the pain as he eases the tension s somehow feeling so good. "Jesse," she sighs heavily. "I've been thinking."

His thumbs pause for just a moment. Cautiously, he urges her on, "Okay…"

Beca turns to face him despite her body's protest to let him carry on doing whatever it is he's doing to make her feel so relaxed. Hesitantly she watches him for a moment, before asking unintelligibly, "CanwejustacceptthatIliveherenowplease?"

The corner of his mouth twitches. "Excuse me?"

She exhales pointedly, pulling herself up so she's leaning into his lap, playing with the hem of his shirt as she speaks more clearly. "When are you going to officially ask me to move in?"

Jesse looks at her in genuine surprise. "I thought you'd already done that."

"What?" Beca frowns. "No, I still have a room at Amy's." And she catches herself again, for the third time that week, referring to her technical place of residence as Amy's rather than hers - to go along with the way she has been calling Jesse's apartment "home" for… Well, she's not sure how long, really, but considering basically all of her stuff is here anyway and she's not actually stayed in her technical bed for about two months at the very least…

"No you don't," Jesse says slowly, "She rented it out to that new Bella last month."

"Tanya," Beca corrects automatically, before registering what he's said and balking in surprise. "What?! But I'm still paying rent!"

"Well." Jesse shrugs, his fingers absently running up her arm. "This is _Amy _we're talking about."

Her eyebrows knitting in confused concern, she asks, "Did everyone know but me that we live together then?"

Jesse nods, his lips pressed tightly together to try and stop himself laughing – he fails, and she pouts childishly as she drops her forehead to his thigh, realising she has been fretting for nothing. "This isn't funny, Jesse!"

"Yes, it actually kinda is." He pulls her chin gently until she's looking up at him again and he kisses her as he sniggers at her appalled expression. "Relax, Bec, it's not that big a deal."

"Yes it is!" she wails, throwing herself into his lap and burying her face in his neck. His arms lock around her as he continues to laugh, and eventually her dismay at the whole thing becomes pretty funny because she starts to laugh with him, the two of them quickly falling into hysterics against the back rest of the couch.

"I can't believe you got so worked up over this," he chuckles after he's managed to calm down a little.

"I can't believe no one said anything to me…" She sighs. "I'm an idiot."

Jesse continues to smirk at her. "Yes, you are."

* * *

"Have you ever thought about, you know, getting married and stuff?"

The hesitant question catches her completely off guard, and she drops the silky fabric of her graduation gown like it's on fire, letting it fall back to skimming her ankles as she stares wide-eyed at him in the mirror. "Wh – No – Are you asking?"

Jesse is lying on their bed, staring at the ceiling so she can't gage his emotional state properly, but she does see him give a half-shrug and he stops tossing his graduation cap for tomorrow into the air. "No, I… I was just curious, I guess."

"Okay," she says lamely, having no idea what else to say.

Too nervous to control himself, Jesse begins spouting out nonsense to the light fixture. "It was just a thought – Yeah, like – I don't think we're particularly ready for – And we've not even moved to LA yet – I mean I just thought – It might not even be us, together, getting hitched – Well, but; we're good yeah? Like we're steady, we're great, we love each other – That's all that really matters, right? We don't need to – I was just… thinking in terms of… Progression."

Beca hovers over him, having gotten tired of his rambling and instead climbed on top of him, and she gently presses a kiss into the curve of his neck to get him to shut up. "Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?" she asks in amusement.

Jesse's breathing is shallow as she rests her chin on her hands that lie on his chest. Somehow taking this as an invitation to pursue the topic she wants nothing more than to pretend he never bought up, he asks again, "So? Have you?"

She sighs. "Honestly? No, not really."

Jesse's hand skims over the material of her gown that covers her back, the rest tangled between them, and she can see the distance in his eyes, how he's lost in his own thoughts and barely registering her lips inching slowly towards his. "Why?" he questions suddenly, and she sighs once more, dropping her forehead on his collarbone.

"Jesse…" she whines when he pokes her just below the ribs. "We are not having this discussion."

"Okay," he concedes, dropping a kiss to her hair. "No more talking about it."

But he doesn't say anything for another few minutes, and seems reluctant to join in any activities that she tries to engage him to take his mind off it, so after the fourth try to get him to remove her shirt, she huffs heavily and sits back on her heels, hands braced against his stomach as she looks down at him with the strangest feelings curdling in her gut.

"Fine, lets talk about it."

"Talk about what?"

"Don't play stupid." Beca swings a leg over him so she can lean against the wall and he can sit up.

"Bec, if you don't want to –"

"I do," she lies, avoiding his gaze to stare instead at the bedroom door. "Come on, lets talk. I'll make it real easy. No, I have not thought about marriage, nor do I want to because I don't plan on ever getting married. And while we're at it, we might as well talk about children! Because you should probably know that I don't intend on giving up my body to another human being for nine months, only for it come out screaming and pooping and hungry, and _then_ spend the rest of my life trying to make it an adequate person for society!"

She doesn't know why she's suddenly angry, but the feeling wells up inside of her and partially takes control, until Jesse takes her hand and rubs his thumb over her knuckles soothingly.

"I'm sorry, Bec," he says gently a few moments later. "I didn't mean to upset you; I was just wondering, it wasn't supposed to be all serious."

Her head drops to his shoulder and she takes his hand in hers, interlocking their fingers loosely. "No, I'm sorry, I don't mean to snap… I – I guess talking about stuff like… like marriage… It's weird for me."

"That's okay." Jesse presses his lips to her hair. "You don't have to be ready for anything like that – Marriage is a big deal, and we're still only really kids ourselves. College is safe for us, but in a few weeks we're moving in together, properly this time, in a whole other state and… I don't know how our relationship will translate there, and I don't know if we're going to realistically last forever but… I _do _know that I want us to. I can't imagine being with anyone else – loving anyone else – and I like to think that someday, we'll take that step together."

Beca lifts her head to look at him properly, her eyes glistening and what she strongly suspects is her heart trapped in her throat, and she can see the sincerity and the _sureness _he has over what he's said, that her narrowed lips begin to turn up into a weak smile. "You really think so?" she whispers.

"I love you, Bec, and I have no intention of ever letting you go," he says almost casually, if not for the intensity behind his gaze. Unable to come up with any other way, she leans forwards to capture his lips with her own, squeezing their joint hands and using the other to cup his cheek.

"Maybe," she starts hesitantly when she pulls back a little, "Maybe one day, we can talk about it properly." Jesse kisses her again, a delighted grin spreading across his face, and she bites her lip hard against her own. "But not now," she says resolutely, patting his knee and shimmying off the bed. "We have dinner reservations with everyone and we're already going to be late as it is."

He groans, trying to tug her back by her hand, but she resists and eventually, a few minutes later, she gets him out of the door, their hands linked with matching smiles as they walk towards his car.

"By the way," she says after they've climbed in, "I love you too."

Jesse smiles serenely at her. "I know."

* * *

**So. Thoughts? Yay? The second part of the story will be focused on life after college, though I don't have really any of it written so I can't promise an amazingly quick update. It'll be three parts, I think, and I'm so looking forward to writing an interpretation of their life together over many, many years. If there's anything you want to see happen, then by all means let me know. **


	2. Middle (1)

**So I've had to make a few changes. I was writing this today and I've realised that, actually, what I intended for the middle is far too long (and, considering my tendency to let things get away from me, I should have planned better for this) so, this story is now in five parts, with the middle being stretched it to three. Sorry, but also, you get more stuff so... Yay?**

**I have a pretty good idea on the reviews I'm going to get though so please just, know I'm sorry BUT I'm now good to start updating more so the next part should be up soonish.**

**I love you guys, you rock. Thanks for sticking with me.**

* * *

**MIDDLE**

_It's not a walk in the park to love each other  
But when our fingers interlock  
Can't deny, can't deny you're worth it  
Cause after all this time, I'm into you_

_- Still Into You, Paramore_

* * *

LA is like another planet.

The sky is probably the brightest shade of blue she's ever seen, and forms the perfect backdrop to all the millions of lightly washed, eccentric buildings that tower over her (though admittedly that's not hard to do). People bustle around, always rushing here and there, diving into little coffee shops and through large, expensive rotating doors. The beach is beautiful; it's just the right level of breezy and the sand is soft under foot. Everything just seems _better _there. It's like she's literally living the dream; expect this version is so much better.

She has Jesse.

Admittedly, the sparkling diamond that is LA has plenty of rough edges, one of which they preside in. They're lucky enough that Donald gets them a good reference in his building, so their tiny little apartment is at least in a good-rough area, and Jesse works hard to make it _theirs_. In the evenings, when she returns from her waitressing gig and he gets back from the coffee shop that takes him on, they take it in turns to cook (or mostly just order in) dinner, curling up on what is most likely a third/fourth hand couch and talking about their day, Jesse watching a movie on his laptop because they can't afford a TV, while Beca makes more mixes to mail in to any number of record labels.

They survive on the bare minimum, and Jesse becomes a bit of a crazed coupon collector while Beca puts her womanly whiles to the test, flirting with the local butcher to give them a discount on offcuts. Jesse's mom sends them weekly 'care packages', and they save the generous tubs of food for the weekend, when they gorge themselves on a spare bed sheet covering the bare floorboards of the living room floor.

It's tough, and not without its difficulties on their relationship, but Beca never quits and Jesse never leaves; they keep each other happy, and that's all that really matters.

* * *

"Jesse!" she screeches over the sound of guns blazing, crawling around the bend of the obstacle that he's disappeared behind. "Jesse Swanson don't you dare leave me alone right now!"

Beca gets herself tangled in the wire of her laser gun, and she huffs in annoyance, yanking the wire from around her foot as she presses herself against the padded wall. As she tries to spot her runaway boyfriend, she hears Stacie crying out as she charges towards some of the boys with Chloe and Lily, the high pitched _wow _of the shots not quite enough to drown out the sound of the small group of boys falling dramatically to the ground.

It's all Jesse's fault, and she almost hates how much she's enjoying this.

Their plan had been simple; Jesse had sent out a mass text a month prior, inviting all of the acapella alumni's to LA for his 23nd birthday, just to take part in an "epic tournament of laser tag," he'd informed her when she returned home from work that night, his eyes wide before giving her a smug look and saying, "Set phasers to… Laser."

"You're such a dork," she'd told him dryly with her arms crossed, rolling her eyes as he did a drop-and-roll across their tiny living room with his hands pressed together in a gun shape, but laughing when he collided with the couch.

Point being.

They should have known.

When Jesse had announced in the queue that they would be splitting into teams of boys and girls, she'd had this inkling… Benji had looked too guilty, and Donald too smug, and Jesse's eyes were sparkling in this way that she never liked the result of – but she'd squashed her suspicions because, well, they wouldn't, would they?

They would.

Seven girls went down in that initial battle, leaving only herself, Amy, Chloe and Stacie. But, after losing the boys and taking two out themselves, they convened in the most hidden corner of the large maze, concocting their own diabolical plan.

Jesse's face pops up around another corner, his Cheshire-cat grin shining in the UV light. "This is _war_ Beca!" She tries not to experience a flashback. "And besides, technically, we're enemies right now!"

"Oh," she says slowly, crawling closer until she's close enough to smell his cologne. "So, if I kissed you right now…" She leans in, hand over his, watching as his grin dims just enough to show her effect on him. "Then, technically… You'd be fraternising with the enemy?"

Jesse presses his lips sweetly to hers, and she smiles devilishly, raising her bulky plastic gun slowly from her lap, ready to fire –

A lazer gun goes off, a suit makes a long, whiny noise, and they both pull away; one in horror, one in glorious joy.

"_You shot me!_"

"I know I did!"

"You bitch!" Beca looks down at her red flashing jacket in horror. "I can't believe you shot me!"

Jesse shrugs unapologetically. "You were going to shoot me!"

"That's not the point!" she says in exasperation, punching his shoulder and making him grunt in pain. "Boys aren't supposed to shoot their girlfriends!"

Beca watches him grinning victoriously again, ruffling her hair and trying to get away, but she keeps her hand wrapped around his wrist, and he stares at her in confusion, trying to pull away, but a grin of her own is developing, and she sees him realise it half a second before the laser is fired and his jacket flashes red.

"Hasta la vista," Amy says theatrically, blowing on the end of her gun with a vengeful glint to her eye, "Baby."

* * *

Almost six months later, the signs begin.

Jesse gets an assistant's job – the first step on the road to his dream – and Beca is still stuck at the restaurant, but with Jesse's increased income she gets to take a few less hours to focus more on her music. Still, they are happy together – at least that's what Beca had thought.

One night, Beca goes to put Jesse's jacket away and finds a single blonde strand of hair. Shrugging it off, she picks it off and puts the jacket back in the wardrobe, closing the doors and forgetting all about it.

Except.

Two nights later, he gets in late, and there it is again – the blonde hair, clinging to the lapel of his blazer. Beca spends an hour listening to his soft snoring, watching how the hair glints in the moonlight of the bedroom.

A week later, Jesse smells of perfume that is decidedly _not _the scent of any of her own.

She tries not to think too much of it, and she ignores the smell and the hair and the late nights for about a month, until one evening he comes home with red lipstick on his collar and she snaps.

The plate smashes into a hundred pieces against the bare brick wall.

"Get the _fuck _out of my house!" she seethes dangerously low toned, holding another plate high above her head, aiming straight at him this time. He gets the message. Thirteen seconds later, the door slams shut behind him

* * *

"Beca? Beca I know you're there."

…

"Let me in. Beca. _Beca_."

…

"Beca, open this door!"

She sits with her feet up on the cardboard box full of his things, flicking through a music magazine and reciting the latest Muse album word for word in her head.

The noise stops an hour later, and she calmly gets up to begin dinner.

* * *

"Mitchell, it's me," a voice barks, and she turns quickly from her spot on the couch, tears tingling instantly in the corner of her eyes. "Come on, open up, lets talk."

Beca lifts herself slowly, her joints protesting as she takes a hesitant step towards her front door.

"It's okay," the voice says soothingly, a little quieter, "It's only me; I'm the only one here."

"No you're not," Beca croaks, realising she hasn't spoken a word for two days. Her palm rests against the old wood of the door, her forehead falling to press against the cool paint. "I know he's there."

"Sweetie, I swear, it's just me," Stacie says softly.

"No." Beca shakes her head, her chest aching as a tear slips down her cheek. "He's been there all weekend, and Donald's been helping him. I know he hasn't left." A smile flickers at one corner of her mouth. "That's just the kind of stupid thing he'd think is romantic or something."

Beca listens to the hushed whispers on the other side of the door and shakes her head, refusing to acknowledge the emptiness that has been inhabiting her since she saw the lipstick.

"Beca, you know I love you, and that I'm like, fifteen million percent on your side and whatever," Stacie begins slowly, "But you don't really think Jesse would do something like that, do you?"

_No._

"Just because you think someone isn't capable of something, doesn't mean they're not."

A pause.

"Jesse swears on his movie collection that he's never cheated on you in any way, shape or form."

The flame in her stomach is fanned by the promise, and she bangs her hand against the door. "Is that supposed to make this all okay?" she asks bitterly. "Am I supposed to be comforted by this somehow? That doesn't mean _shit _to me, Jesse Swanson!" she yells in anger. "That doesn't explain the hair, the late nights, or the lipstick, or the perfume –"

"They're the Bella's!" Stacie interrupts desperately. "They're ours, not some skank from his job!"

"_Stacie!_" she hears him say, and the ache in her chest grows so much that she almost has to double over.

"What? You really think this is all worth losing her over?" Stacie becomes louder again. "Beca, listen to me, Jesse has been trying to organise a surprise birthday party for you but he's so incompetent that he came to us to help, and so we've been meeting up after work and I promise you, Bec, this is all just one giant misunderstanding –"

The door flies open, and Stacie almost barrels right into her.

"Are you serious?" Beca splutters, looking down at a scruffy Jesse crouched down against the wall of the hallway. There's a blanket over his lap and a mug of cold coffee beside him, and the shadows under his eyes are as dark as the five o'clock shadow around his chin. "You've been camped outside of the apartment for two days, have let me feel this _shit _because you didn't want to tell me about a surprise party?!"

Jesse coughs nervously, eyes flitting around as he winces. "Well, when you put it that way – _Ow!" _He covers his face with his arm after she successfully slaps him around the ear.

"What the hell, Jesse!"

Stacie glances between them, pointing her thumbs down the hall. "So I'm just… Going to go…"

And Stacie walks triumphantly away, as Beca falls to her knees and buries her face into Jesse's neck, muttering over and over again about just how much of an idiot he is.

* * *

_To: Donald  
Thanks for looking after him._

_From: Donald  
Was only doing what you asked. Just glad you're okay now._

_To: Donald  
If you tell him, I will have to kill you._

* * *

"Jesse Jesse Jesse Jesse Jesse Jesse Jesse Jesse Jesse _Jesse!_" The door slams against the wall as she races inside, throwing her things anywhere and skidding across the floor as she searches desperately for him.

"Jesus, woman, where's the fire?! I'm right- _oomph_." Beca jumps on him the second he exits the bedroom, drying his hands on a towel that is promptly dropped as he catches her on instinct, her legs and arms around him as she squeals excitedly like a little child.

Unfortunately, the force at which she runs at him is too much, and Jesse loses his balance enough that they fall to the floor, Beca lying over his chest. She laughs, too giddy to really care all that much, and locks her gaze on Jesse as she pulls herself up just enough to shower kisses all over his face.

(She's excited, okay. She knows that Jesse is probably going to demand that whatever spirit has taken over her brain leave immediately, but she's _too excited_. Though remembering the discovery of Jesse's firm belief in ghosts is enough to bring her back to Earth a little.)

"Bec – Beca what are – Bec!" he splutters against her hair and she pulls back again, her smile dazzling him.

"I did it!" she tells him breathlessly. "I got the promotion!"

Jesse watches her with wide eyes, unreactive. "You… You got the job?" he whispers from underneath her. She nods with a cute little giggle. "You got the job?" he says again, louder this time, and she laughs freely.

"Yes, I got the job!"

His face lights up with a giant grin, but she doesn't see it for long because he's grabbed her head with both hands and planted a breath-stealing kiss on her lips. "_You got the job!"_

She hugs him tightly, laughing as he starts cheering loudly enough for the neighbours to start bashing on the walls, creating some form of ridiculous chant as he rolls them around excitedly. "You did it!" he enthuses. "Oh, Beca, I'm so proud of you!"

Beca grins at him; life can't get much sweeter than this.

"Marry me."

The grin disappears.

Her arms drop from around him.

"What?"

Jesse's face falls, like he's only just realised what he's said, and he swallows with great difficulty. Beca can't do anything but _stare_, until Jesse has rolled off her and gotten to his feet. "Nothing."

"That wasn't nothing," she insists (and she's surprised at just how little she's freaking out), brushing herself down as she picks herself up. "You just –"

"No I didn't."

"Jesse –"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does –"

He goes quiet, his back to her so she can't tell what he's thinking, so Beca raises a trembling hand to his shoulder, silently asking him to turn around. Marriage has never been something that she's considered – outside of their conversation the night before graduation, they've never spoken about it in the three years since – but she also knows that Jesse is _that _kind of guy; he likes to keep moving forward, whereas she likes to stay where she's comfortable, where it's easier for her to understand. Jesse is the married type, while she's never considered herself at all suited for that kind of life.

Jesse doesn't turn around, so she breathes out one shaky word. "Yes."

It's his turn to stare at her incredulously now. "What?"

Now she's said it, now she knows she _can_, it's a lot easier to say. "Yes. I will marry you." Jesse is frozen under her hand, unable to process, so she continues, "I'm not saying now. I'm not saying this year or next. I'm not saying anything but that yes, I will marry you. I'm not…" She bites her lip as she struggles to think when Jesse turns ever so slowly. When his disbelieving eyes meet her own surprised ones, she continues, "I'm not ready yet; _we're _not ready, but I know that we will be. I will be. And I know that the person I'm going to marry, when the time comes, is you." He's still not responding, just gazing at her with a complicated cocktail of emotion swirling in his dark eyes, so she prods his shoulder. "Jesse? You in there?"

Shaking his head, he seems to come back to earth with a slowly growing smile. "Yeah, yeah, I'm here. I just… I don't – What are you saying?"

Beca rolls her eyes in exasperation, trying to think of a way to make this extra easy for him. "I'm saying, Jesse, that if you like it you should put a ring on it." His smile twitches, and her own erupts across her face as she fully understands what is going on here. "And if you like _this_," she continues, gesturing to herself with a sweeping hand, "Then you better put a damn ring on _this_."

Jesse stares at the hand she's thrust in his face, and finally, _finally _starts to move by placing a gentle kiss on her empty ring finger. "I don't have a ring," he confesses. "I didn't exactly… Plan this."

Beca shrugs, her hand still lying in his. "Technicality."

"So… You'll marry me?" he asks again slowly. "You'll be my wife?"

"No," she says immediately. "I will be your fiancé, your… almost wife. We're not getting married, we're just agreeing to get married someday."

Jesse bites her lip as he grins at her. "Same thing, Bec."

"Whatever, weirdo."

But she's quickly swept up in his strong arms, and she's surprised to find she's not scared at all; not even a little bit.

* * *

Somehow, being engaged really suits them.

The Swanson family erupts with the excitement and Beca is inundated with calls from members of the family, some she's never even heard of (Jesse's third cousin twice removed invites them to Malta for a family dinner). Beca's mother is happy for them, if a little sceptical, but her dad is supportive and "glad to see he's finally making an honest woman of you, Becs"; even the stepmonster is glad, sending a bunch of Beca's favourite flowers to the apartment.

Their friends, while happy, don't really respond the way she'd expected.

("_Finally_," Stacie says with a roll of her eyes, Lily nodding from beside her as she taps absently on the mahogany.

Amy frowns. "You're not married already?" When Beca slowly shakes her head, Amy shrugs. "Well you two have always _acted _like a married couple…"

"Oh, come on, guys," Benji expresses in disapproval, "They're getting married, be excited for them!"

"We are, it's just not that big a surprise," Donald replies. He glances between Beca and Jesse, who are sitting around the table glaring at Amy/glaring at everyone, respectively. "Congratulations, guys."

"Yeah, we really are happy for you."

"If I'm not your maid of honour, I will hunt you down.")

In fact, the only one to react predictably out of their friends is Chloe. ("You _what_?!" Chloe screeches over Skype, a brilliant smile engulfing her face as Beca tells her again calmly. "Oh my God Beca this is _huge!_ Where's the ring? When are you going to do the deed? Have you picked a day yet? I was thinking a winter wedding…")

Beca doesn't care. She just really likes looking at her hand and seeing the representation of their promise to each other, sitting there comfortably. It's nice, and she can't quite resist flashing it around whenever she can.

* * *

Beca looks around her, smiling at her surroundings and the tranquillity they bring to her. The perfectly cut grass, a vivid green beneath her, is soft between her toes, almost tickling the arches of her feet as she tip toes across it, her arms spread out to help keep her balance. The pink tinged sky stretches out all around her, the setting sun warm on her skin, and the trees are so high above her, their gentle green leaves swaying in the breeze…

A buzzing ghosts in her ear and she swats at the air around her, convinced some kind of annoying wasp is trying to disrupt her little garden, but the noise is gone as quickly as it arrives, and she lets herself float back into that place again and continue looking up at the trees. Again, a few moments later, the noise is back, and she spins around, looking for its source. Behind her she is delighted to find a babbling brook, the water clean and sweet as it rushes over the rocks on the waterbed.

The noise continues though, almost like the beat of a song, two pulses, over and over, so very far away. She strains her ears, trying to find the voice – because she is sure, now, that it is someone's voice – but panics as her surroundings begin to darken, the light leaving too quickly, the sun slipping behind the distant hills until all she is surrounded by is darkness, the voice now insistent in her ear.

"Bec? Beca? Beca. _Beca. Beca!_"

All of her limbs feel so very heavy, and she is aware that she is no longer standing, but lying on her stomach, something strong and supportive beneath her. Groaning at the light that is burning behind her closed eyelids she lifts one lethargic arm to swing out at the source of her unwelcomed distraction, having to take a few go's before her fingers graze what feels distinctly like a face.

"Beca, don't maul me, you told me to wake you up before I left."

Something grabs her hand and she lets her muscles relax, all effort to keep it up gone, and a faint chuckle tickles at her ears. Opening her mouth a little, she tries to tell the disruption to _go away_, but it comes out more as a breathy, "Gnnn haphewn."

Lips graze her forehead and she sighs sleepily. "Alright, well I'm going to shower and grab anything last minute, I'll wake you up again in about an hour."

Beca is happy to return to her little happy place, but when she gets there, she is distraught to find that winter has come and the grass is covered in a thick layer of snow, the stream frozen over, the leaves from the trees long dead. Beca looks around her sadly. The sky is now grey, clouded over so the sun is hidden away, and the winter chill is harsh on her bared skin, her feet frozen from being buried in the glistening, untouched snow. Beca huffs out a large breath as the buzzing returns, and she eagerly lets herself be drawn away by it, desperate to escape the cold confinements of her winter-ruined paradise.

"Beca? Pumpkin. Sweetie? Honey-boo. Babycakes –"

"I will kill you and everyone you love," she threatens into her pillow, tightening her grip around it, feeling too unsatisfied by the lack of sleep that is settling into her bones.

"To do that you have to get up," Jesse teases, unfazed, into her ear, and when she opens an eye she finds him kneeling by her side of the bed, his trademark grin in need of being slapped away because she _really _doesn't want to be up at this time of the morning.

"Oh," she whispers as she realises why he's actually waking her up. "I forgot."

"I'll forgive you if you get up and say goodbye to me?" he says hopefully, and she slides a hand out from under her pillow to pull on his neck so she can lazily kiss him. "Good morning, my darling," he coos when he pulls back a little, earning him a slap on the shoulder. Jesse just continues to smile at her, stretching up to tower over her, his shirt pulling against his chest as he stretches with a content sigh.

"Did you take my sheets away?" she asks with a frown, suddenly aware of how exposed she feels to the cool air of the condo.

"No…" Jesse's guilty side-glance proves otherwise, and as he walks around the bed and disappears from view, a sharp slap is delivered to her bare backside that makes her squeak and dart up, just in time to glare at his back as he walks out of the room, sniggering with delight.

She finds Jesse few minutes later, busily leafing through his bag, checking he has everything he needs. Beca watches him with a tinge of sadness. Jesse is flying over to New York for the week in the hopes of securing a contract, has been almost vibrating with excitement over the company paid trip, yet Beca is sad to see him go. She knows he is overjoyed to be going, but the thought of being on the other side of the country to him makes something stir unpleasantly in her stomach.

It isn't like they hadn't spent time apart before. All throughout college, there had been weeks where she'd be staying with her mother and he'd be with his family, an expanse of land between them; or trips with their various acapella groups that took them to different places; there was that period freshman year where they didn't even _talk _to each other, and then the few times after where push had come to shove and they'd gotten tired of each other and taken a well-needed break…

But this time is different. This time, there are no problems between them, no enforced breaks. Since moving to LA together a few years before, they haven't really gone anywhere without the other. They live together, travel together when visiting family and friends, they are never apart for more than the odd night – and yet now, here they are, about to say goodbye to each other for a whole week.

"There's a pot of coffee ready for you," he tells her absently, checking his plane tickets. When she doesn't respond, he glances up at her, taking in her clasped hands and pursed lips. "You alright, baby?"

Beca presses her lips together harder to stop a smile at another of his teasing pet names for the morning and steps into his arms when he holds them out to her for a hug. She burrows her nose in his shirt and lets her eyes close as he keeps a tight grip around her.

"It's only a week, Bec, we can totally manage that," he says quietly, his fingers running through her hair.

"Oh I'll be fine." She pulls back enough to look up at him with a playful smirk. "My secret lover is waiting just down the hall."

"Is that so?" He smirks back, his hands pressing into the small of her back. "So that means I can now tell you the true nature of my trip is actually to whisk my mistress away somewhere nice where she doesn't have to run down the fire escape every time you're home early from work."

"Don't feel you have to sneak around for my sake."

"I'm a respectful cheater, Bec, I don't want you to walk in and get jealous of her."

Beca can feel herself breaking, but fights hard to keep her composure. "Jealous? Why would I be jealous? There's no way she could be anymore awesome than me." Beca shrugs a shoulder at his raised eyebrows. "You're already punching above your own weight with me; no way you could pull someone even close to all this."

The corners of his lips twitch for a moment before he breaks and laughs, shaking his head at the victorious smile that spreads across her face. "Fair enough, Becakins."

Beca pulls away from his lips. "Becakins? Really?"

"Really really," he says with a mischievous smile, kissing her again sweetly.

"Alright, come on, you're going to miss check in if you don't get out of here," she tells him after a few minutes, patting his chest and gently prying his arms from around her. He pouts and she pulls on his chin to kiss him again quickly before opening his bag and checking the contents herself, making sure he has everything he needs.

"Are you sure you can't come with me?" he whines behind her.

"I can't, you know I've already used up my vacation days this year." Beca turns around to his disappointed face and offers him a small smile. "Besides, like you said; it's only a week, we'll be fine."

Jesse just sighs, checking his watch and sighing again when he sees the time. "I have to get going."

"You'll call when you land?"

"Of course." Jesse's arms wrap around her again for one last hug, his face in her hair, and she lets herself get lost in the warmth of body heat, the scent of his cologne, the feel of his arms as he holds her oh so close. Beca won't have it for seven whole days, so she tries to memorise everything about the moment, hoping that maybe, if she tries hard enough, her senses will remember him well enough that she can feel him and smell him and _sense _him until he can come home and take back over.

"Come on, let's not drag this out." Beca kisses him one last time and pulls away reluctantly, smiling at him. "I'll talk to you later."

Jesse grips the handle of his bag, his eyes lingering on her with an edge to his gaze. "I love you, Bec."

"I know." Beca holds the door open as he walks through it, but he turns again to give her a giant grin, his excitement returning at the fact he is getting to go to New York City – somewhere he has been begging her to go with him to for almost as long as she's known him. "Get out of here!" she insists.

"Bye, sugar-pea."

Beca rolls her eyes at his retreating figure, but just as he reaches the staircase to retreat down to the lobby, she calls out to him. Brown eyes meet blue as she bites her lip softly. "I love you too."

Jesse winks, smugly saying, "I know," before disappearing out of view.

* * *

The apartment is lonely without him, so she spends the week doing anything she can to avoid being there.

Coffee carts, music stores, book shops, the mall, her record label… Beca is suddenly a lot more present in the city of her dreams.

When that stops helping, she grabs a bag and knocks hesitantly on the pale yellow door. Aubrey doesn't even need to ask; she just smiles as she rubs a hand over her swollen belly, opening the door further for Beca to enter.

Meanwhile, at work, Beca is mortified to discover a new present each morning. Without fail, every time she walks through the door, there is some ridiculous gift. A giant teddy bear ('for you to hug at night while I'm not there for you to cling to'. Getting that home had been the most embarrassing experience of her life), a picnic basket full of her favourite foods, a record she had been trying to track for months…

Each time, her text is the same:

_I hate you._

And his reply will always say:

_I miss you too._

* * *

"See? I knew you'd get through the week easily enough," he says as he kisses her neck, and she presses herself into him, overjoyed that he's finally home. She hasn't mentioned her temporary living situation with Aubrey and her husband over the past four days, though she doubts he's not aware of it.

"Yeah, well, would have been nice if you stayed away a little longer," she says despondently, pulling his arm tighter around her as she tries not to grin at how good it feels to have him back, peppering kisses along her shoulder and neck. "I was really enjoying spending time with my secret lover."

Jesse bites down hard enough to make her gasp. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, he was really great, you'd – " her breathing hitches as his hand starts trailing up her thigh "-You'd like him. Total nerd, like you. Kept sending me all these ridiculous things."

"I don't know," Jesse mumbles casually, "He sounds like a pretty amazing guy."

"So you won't mind if I chuck you for him?"

"Sure." His hand, by this point, has disappeared under her shirt, and her back arches a little as it continues its journey over her ribs. "Right after this."

Beca laughs giddily as in one swift move, he rolls her under him and hovers over her, his lips stealing anything else she has to say as he kisses her ardently. They get so wrapped up in each other that they seem to forget how close they are to edge of the mattress, until Beca tries to roll him over and they tumble over the side, landing in a heap of limbs and crumpled sheets on the cold, bare floor. Beca laughs loudly as Jesse grunts, having taken most of the impact, and kisses him around her giggles in a wordless apology.

Yes, she has definitely missed him, and boy is it good to have him home.

* * *

He's lost. 100% completely and utterly lost.

She can see it in him, how today has been such a drain on him that he has no idea what to do, where to go, or how to cope. There is a dull ache in her chest that she doesn't know how to get rid of, because she doesn't know how to soothe his own pain' he just sits there, staring at the arrangements of flowers that make up people's tributes to his dead grandfather.

There's one shaped into a dollar sign – his dad's idea of a joke, aimed towards his own father's occupation because the two had rarely gotten along and his dad knew very little else that could represent him well enough – and one arranged in a large circle from his grandma. Beca glances over to her, seeing her press a tissue to her wet cheeks as she pretends not to be falling apart inside at having lost the other half of herself after 58 years of marriage.

Beca stops the thought that stems from this before it has a chance to fully form. She doesn't need to be thinking that way now.

There's many bunches of roses and arrangements of flowers she doesn't know the name of, and the cold wind in the crematorium is cutting through her coat. She watches him shivering, keeping herself hidden behind a group of mourners. Jesse's hand reaches out to an arrangement – small and simple and made up of pure white flowers – and she can see him staring, worrying his lip as he reaches out to the card she knows is blank.

Beca knows she probably isn't really wanted here; he'd made it quite clear last time they spoke, but as she eases herself through the crowd, she can see that he doesn't look all that surprised – that he knows the flowers are from her, and knowing she's here isn't as unexpected as she thought it would be. Jesse looks around at the quiet chaos of shaking hands and accepting condolences, trying to find her, but she ducks behind a tree until he's back to staring at the newest plague, his grandfather's engraved there in shining bronze.

"Hey, weirdo."

Looking over his shoulder in surprise, he sees her standing a few feet away. Wrapped tightly in a large coat with another over her arm, she keeps her eyes gentle and tries to smile.

"Beca," he breathes as he seems to registers that she's _actually there_, in front of him, watching him cautiously. "You're really here."

"Of course I am." She walks towards him and drapes his coats over his shoulders, leaving an arm around his shoulders as she bends down next him. He's cold and he leans towards her unconsciously. Having him this close makes her feel better and worse all at the same time.

"Jesse," she says softly, rubbing her hand over his shoulder. "Jesse I'm so sorry."

"Please don't apologise," he whispers, his voice trembling with held back emotion. "You're not the one who walked out, you're not the one who broke it off –"

"I don't care about any of that." Her head falls onto his shoulder and he rests his on top, staring at her flowers. "I only care about you. The rest is just… Technicalities."

He lifts his head to look at her, and she smiles sadly. "I don't want to lose you," he confesses brokenly, and her warm hand is there to catch the tear that falls to his cheek as she kisses him fiercely. He kisses her back, and she knows with dead certainty that they'll be okay; that he'll be okay, with time.

"You don't have to worry about that," she promises when she pulls away a little, "I'm not going anywhere."

"And I'll never leave again, I swear." He places his hand over the one on his cheek and tries to show her how serious he is. "I was an idiot and I didn't mean any of it."

"Jesse you just found out your grandfather died, I think you're allowed to go a little crazy."

"Not at you. Never at you." He kisses her again, softly this time. "You mean too much to me."

Beca holds up her left hand and he looks relieved to see his ring still on her finger, glittering despite the overcast sky above them. "A little crazy isn't enough to scare me off, okay? I'm in this for the long haul whether you like it or not, so let's forget about what happened and instead maybe find somewhere a little warmer?"

They straighten up and he holds her hand tightly as they finally walk back towards the crowds of people. Jesse's mom looks over the moon at the sight of them together again. He only lets go of her hand once for the rest of the day – to pull on the coat she had bought for him, because she knows how easily he forgets the most basic things when he's upset (he confesses later, in the dark of the Swanson home, how embarrassed he is that one of those things is how much he loves her).

* * *

"Beca?"

"Jesse, it's 3am, is this really important?"

"Yes."

"Fine, what is it?"

"Let's get married."

"We are."

"No, I mean, properly. Let's commit to it. Pick a date, start looking at cake and dresses and venues and stuff."

"If I say yes, will you let me go back to sleep?"

"Probably not."

"…Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

The call comes one quiet windy night in the middle of August.

Donald drives her, because her entire body is trembling too much and she doesn't have the car anyway, and he picks up a rumpled Stacie on the way from a club, her make up smeared from dried tears she's keeping at bay for Beca's sake as she lets her wrap herself around Stacie's form, her hand rubbing Beca's arm as they sit impatiently in the backseat, Donald grumbling about the late night traffic from the driver's seat.

Distantly, she remembers hearing the Spice Girls on the radio, and maybe a bit of Justin Beiber, and she starts thinking about Donald's Guilty Pleasures mix CD that she gave him for his birthday ages ago, as Stacie and Donald loop their arms around her, walking her into the hospital in a haze of paralyzing shock. He'd loved that CD so much, which was weird since it had been a joke present…

"Oh my God, Beca!" Benji rushes towards them, butterfly stitches across his forehead and his arm cast and in a sling; his eyes wild and his mouth downturned. Beca flinches, clinging a little harder to Stacie's hand. "Beca, I'm so sorry-"

"Where is he?" Donald asks for her. "What's happening?"

Benji glances up at him, tears filling his eyes. "I- I don't- They took him to surgery, I think he – Oh God, Beca I'm so sorry."

She just stares back at him, her face – her entire being – devoid of emotion apart from the persistent shaking.

"Surgery? Why surgery?" asks Stacie nervously.

Benji falters, glancing between the trio nervously, the silence stretching out between them in the waiting room, until Beca realises why Benji won't talk; because he _can't_ say it, not in front of her.

Jesse's going to die. Jesse's going to die_. Jesse's going to die._

She doesn't know what to think, how to react, how to feel, so she stumbles away from the scaffolding her friends give her and instead slumps into a standard grade waiting chair, head in her hands as she thinks about how many people have sat here before her, waiting for news on their loved ones. How many people have given good news in this chair? Bad news? How many people's lives have fallen apart in this chair; the next?

A few minutes later, there is a disturbance beside her, and the rough skin of Donald's hands presses against her own, pulling them softly away until she's looking into his dark, guarded eyes. "Hey," he whispers. Beca watches him closely, looking for a tell on what he's about to say. "Everything's going to be okay, yeah? I promise you, Jesse is going to pull through."

Beca doesn't believe him, so keeps quiet.

"Benji told me what happened," he continues in his most gentle voice. His hands lay on top of hers, like somehow it will make this all okay. "I'm going to be honest with you, Bec; apparently he was pretty beat up. Benji didn't hear much and there's no definitive news yet, so we don't know just how bad this is, but if there's one thing I know, it's that Jesse is strong; he's a fighter." A smile flickers dimly across his face. "I think the guy could be beheaded and still somehow be alive."

The joke is supposed to make her laugh, to get some form of reaction out of her, but it just echoes around her hollow insides, her emotionless expression staying put.

"He's not going to leave you, and until he can tell you that himself, neither will we. We're all here for you; we'll do anything you need. Just say the word."

Beca knows she should respond, should do _anything _to show she's still here, still present in the moment, but nightmare images of a ghostly pale Jesse are scorching her vision; his beat up and broken body on a bloody operating table imprinting into the backs of her eyelids.

* * *

_"So."_

_"So?"_

_"You roped in the Treble."_

_Beca does a double take at the blinking, expectant eyes of Stacie, sitting a row above in the Bella's rehearsal space (just so it's known, she is a Bella not be choice, but by necessity). "Excuse me?"_

_"That Jesse guy, from Hood Night last week. I'm impressed, Beca, you hooked a good one early on in the game."_

_Beca just stares up at her in dumbfounded shock. (There's a blush heating up her cheeks, but she swears it's just the memory of Jesse embarrassing himself drunkenly and nothing to do with the way he spent most of the night with his arm around her, rambling on about anything that came to mind.) "I… I didn't… No, no, Jesse is just…"_

_Stacie, undeterred, just winks at her, whispering, "It's okay, I won't tell. Those being secretly Treble-boned must stick together."_

_Stacie holds her little finger out as Aubrey calls their break to an end, and Beca is too stunned by the strange conversation to notice that she's wrapped her own little finger around Stacie's._

* * *

There's a carefully manicured hand in hers when a doctor _finally _comes to see them.

"Miss Mitchell? Hi, I'm Dr Torres." A dark haired woman with a friendly face is in front of her, the right amount of empathy and distance in her expression that is supposed to set their patient's families at ease without getting too close. She holds her hand out towards Beca, but she's forgotten how to move again.

"I'm sorry," Stacie says from beside her. "She's not spoken since she found out."

"That's okay." A faint smile crosses the doctor's face. "He woke up on the way to surgery, kept asking for "my Beca". He said you'd rip my head off if I let anything happen to him without you being here to kill him yourself for writing the car off."

For the first time since she got the call five hours beforehand, Beca wants to smile. Or cry. Or scream. Or anything, really, as long as it's something other than _this_.

Dr Torres plays with a loose thread of her scrubs as she gets back to business. "Jesse made it through surgery, and he's in a stable condition. The impact of the car broke a few ribs, his knee and shattered his left shoulder, but the surgery went well and I'm confident he'll regain most of his function. We've done a CT scan to check his brain for any swelling, and there's some but it should only be temporary."

"But he's okay?" Benji asks frantically. "He'll wake up and be himself again?"

"I've done a consult over his scans with our best neurosurgeon, and he's pretty confident there won't be any lasting brain damage. We won't know for sure until Jesse comes round, but if there are any problems, well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Thank you so much, doctor," Stacie gushes. "When can Beca see him?"

"I imagine very soon, once the nurses have got him settled in his room. Someone will be by to take you to him."

That's everything Beca needs to here; Jesse is alive, and she gets to see him in his living state. Everything else is just semantics; they can deal with his injuries and the health insurance and the car later. Right now, all she cares about is that Jesse is still with her.

* * *

Beca stands in the doorway for an immeasurable amount of time, just staring and processing and trying to keep in mind what the doctor had told her.

_It looks far worse than it is._

It's strange to see Jesse looking so… Small. He makes fun of her for her height, but right now, seeing him lying there surrounded by tubes and machines, with the bruises and the cuts and the bandages… It's like staring at the child version of him. It's like he's so vulnerable, completely defenceless against the world… And he looks at peace with it.

That's what hurts the most.

Beca wishes she could see his eyes. She loves his eyes. Maybe if she could see them, she could better convince herself of what the doctors and the machines are telling her; Jesse is still alive; somewhere in that head of his, he's still existing.

* * *

"Why hasn't he woken up yet? Surely the drugs must have worn off by now!"

"I understand why you think this is worrying, Miss –"

"No, don't give me that. His fiancé is standing there waiting for him to wake up like you promised he would!" Stacie's voice continues to rise from outside the room. "It's been too long for this to not be serious."

"Jesse's body has undergone a trauma," Dr Torres says kindly. "The human body varies in its responses; sometimes it stays in a state like this to better heal. He'll wake up in his own time, but I'm afraid for now we are all going to have to wait."

* * *

26 hours after she receives the call, Beca lets herself sit by his bedside.

Close up, he looks so much worse, but she realises that right now, he needs her just as much as she needs him. Jesse can't see her to know she's with him, so she eases herself into the chair and continues to listen to the heart monitor.

_Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep._

* * *

Three hours later, she finds the courage to bring up a shaking hand and lay it on top of his bandaged knuckles. Chloe's hand squeezes her shoulder, and she closes her eyes to try and pretend that it is his.

The hand is too small, too light, but for just a second, there is a hint of comfort. It's chased away by gnawing fear of losing the man that her whole life is built around.

* * *

_Jesse? It's me. It's Beca. _

_I'm here._

_Wake the fuck up, you selfish son of a bitch._

_This isn't how things were supposed to go. We were looking at wedding cakes and arguing over your best man and how religious we should make the ceremony for your mother. She's here, you know. I think I heard your dad telling Benji that she's sleeping in the waiting room, but she's here. We're all here. We're all here for you._

_I know that people die all the time, and I know that it's a sad but inevitable part of life… But you always said _we_ were inevitable. Remember? All those years ago, back when you were just this nerdy weirdo and I was too proud to realise how much I needed good people in my life. You said we were inevitable, Jesse. And I didn't let you in – let myself love you – just for you to fade away from me now._

_The doctors keep saying you'll wake up soon, that you're just healing. But you can heal just fine with your eyes open. I need you to open your eyes._

_If you don't open wake up right now, I will break all of your DVDs._

_I will smash your new keyboard._

_Oh God. Jesse, please, wake up. Do it for me. Wake up for me. If you love me, you'll stay with me._

_I can't lose you._

_I'm so mad at you. You know that Benji sucks at driving; why would you let him behind the wheel of our car? I know he's your best friend, I know he's important… But right now all I care about is that you're lying in a hospital bed, and that you've had surgery and brain scans and you collided with those stupid lights that you always said were going to get someone killed…_

_I never thought it might be you._

_Stacie says I should stay positive, but you know me. The pessimist of the relationship. I keep trying to tell myself you'll wake up any minute now… But the seconds are ticking by and so far, there's nothing._

_Well, almost nothing. Your heart rate jumps everytime I stroke my finger over your wrist… Just like that. Do you know? Can you feel it? It's me, Jesse. It's Beca._

_I will never forgive you for this._

_I love you._

* * *

**References: _Los Angeles, I'm Yours_ by Jack E. Pearce, How I Met Your Mother, Star Trek, The Incredibles, _Man That Can't Be Moved_ - The Script, Shrek, _Caffeine Boost_ by theasbofive, Greys Anatomy And probably a bunch of other crap.**


	3. Middle (2)

**This isn't me really being back, but I managed to finish this and, considering the end of chapter two, thought you would like to see what happens next. This will also help draw attention to the fact that I am, technically, on a bit of a hiatus at the moment, as stated on my profile. So I'm sorry, and I love you all. **

**P.S. I need some baby/pet name suggestions so if you have anything, help me out?**

* * *

**MIDDLE PT 2**

Beca can't remember the last time she slept.

She thinks about it, head on her arm, trying to remember, but it's like her whole life is this hospital room and she doesn't know what came before it. Only vaguely does she even know their story, of how she and Jesse had gotten to this point. She thinks about singing and parties, of road trips and tiny apartments, long work days and long sleepless nights. Promotions and surprise proposals and whispered promises. She fleetingly recalls the feel of his skin on hers, how brightly his smile shines, and she struggles to remember the exact shade of brown his eyes are, hidden away from her view by his own mind.

Falling restlessly into a strange oblivion, Beca clings to the only thing she can; her memories.

* * *

Her eyelids are heavy, but there's this feeling, something she can't explain through her exhaustion and foggy brain, that tells her to _open her god damn eyes right this second_.

The room is blurry, and it's too bright and clinical, so she squints and groans quietly, rolling her head so her face is buried into scratchy blanket. Her back is roaring in pain, like she's slept funny again. She always manages to do that on a weekend.

Something strokes her hair, and she smiles despite her dry and sore throat.

"_Ow_."

Beca straightens up with a jolt.

Memories are flooding back. The phone call from Benji. The guilty pleasures mix. The chair, the clock, the room and the doctor and the shaking and the beeping and the praying and –

The bed. He was in a bed. He _is _in a bed.

Choking on her breath at the sight before her, she hesitantly squeaks out, "Jesse?"

It's a dream. This must be a dream.

Even if she hasn't yet remembered his eyes so perfectly…

_Please don't let this be a dream._

One side of his battered face lifts weakly. "Hey," he whispers, wincing as he tries to lift his hand again. "Miss me?"

Tears spring hot and fast to her eyes and she sobs as she realises that Jesse is really alive; his eyes are open and he's talking and he's watching her fall apart at the seams but she doesn't care, because _Jesse is alive_.

"You idiot!" she sobs, gripping his hand tightly and lifting herself to press kisses across the healthier looking side of his face. Her lips brush the chapped, rough surface of his own. "Don't you _ever _do that to me again!"

Jesse's fingers wrap around her hand and he nods minutely. "Yes ma'am."

A bubble of giddy laughter rises from her gut.

Pressing her forehead to his, she allows herself to breathe properly in what feels like a day and a half, her inhales shaking and her exhales trembling. Her hand runs through his matted hair. Inside her chest, her heart finally begins to beat again.

A tear falls on his cheek as she pulls back to slap his good shoulder, ignoring his indignant, "Hey! Ow, that hurt!"

"I'm so _mad _at you," she insists in a broken voice, kissing him again just because she can, now. "How many times have I told you to not let Benji drive?"

Jesse's eyes darken with concern. "Oh God – Benji – tell me he's okay. Is he okay? He's alive right?"

She nods, her thumb stroking over his cheekbone. A smile blooms. "Yes, he's alive. Though probably not for much longer; with all of his pacing these past two days I think he must have worn away his feet to stubs."

Jesse frowns, wincing as he breathes too hard and it hits his ribs. "Two days?" Beca sees movement in the window at the corner of her eye, but she can't bear to look away. "How long was I out?"

Beca squeezes his hand and lets herself sink back into her chair. "The… The accident was two days ago. They uh…" Beca wipes her nose, trying to think of how to tell him all that had happened. "You were taken straight to surgery. I think… Donald and Stacie know more than I do, but you're… It was pretty bad. The doctor said you were fine but…" More tears fall as she remembers those agonising hours. "You wouldn't wake up, Jesse. You wouldn't open your eyes."

She loses herself in her sobs, and Jesse pulls weakly on their joint hands until she's buried her face in his neck, crying out for the life she had thought she'd lost with him. He still smells like _Jesse _despite all the other horrible chemical smells, and it's the first thing she's found truly comforting. She can now see the light at the end of the tunnel; she can now begin to feel just the tiniest bit positive, and as Jesse tells her over and over how sorry he is; that he loves her so, so much, Beca finally sees what Jesse has seen all along; their future.

* * *

Beca walks on stiff legs to the waiting room, tear stains on her cheeks and her clothes a rumpled mess from the days spent at Jesse's bedside. She doesn't want to leave him, not ever again, but she knows to give his parents some time with him while she finally faces everyone else.

Waiting there, she is surprised to see so many of their friends, who turn to her with reigned in hope in their expressions. Letting out a shaky breath, she manages to say, "He's awake."

The small crowd visibly relaxes, and Stacie's arms are around her a second before everyone is just hugging and crying and thanking the universe for letting him survive. Beca loses herself in the comfort and the love her friends bring, letting their touch and words and presence lull her into a feeling of security that she has forgotten how to feel since hearing of the accident.

Benji stands to one side, watching anxiously, and she breaks away from the group to approach him, taking his hands in hers and flashing him a watery smile. "You owe me a new car, Apples."

She's not forgiven him yet, but it's a start. For now, her sole focus is getting Jesse better.

* * *

"What do you see?" Jesse whispers late at night a week later, after Beca confesses to her flashforward of their life together.

"I see what you see."

He chuckles, and it's such a glorious sound that she replays it over and over in her mind until it's ringing in her ears like a beautiful melody. "Yes, but I want to know what _exactly_."

Beca rolls her eyes as she runs a fingertip over one of his nails, enjoying the simple pleasure of feeling his body heat so close to her as she lies in the tiny gap of space in his hospital bed. "We're going to have a very understated, quiet little wedding ceremony at the courthouse –"

"Liar," Jesse breathes. Beca just presses her cheek harder into his good shoulder to hide her smile.

Beca lets the truth fill the darkness surrounding them. "I see us being happy."

"We are happy."

"Yes, but I see us being happy forever." Beca shrugs as the seriousness of the moment weighs down on her. "You know, the kind of happy that means you'll love me even when I'm 93 and have saggy boobs and wrinkly skin and I foam at the mouth like a rabid dog."

Jesse laughs quietly. "I can just picture it – how great an old lady you're going to be. Always complaining."

"I am _not _always complaining!" Beca glances up at him, and in the near complete darkness of the room, she can almost pretend that they're just lying in their bed at home together, that he isn't attached to a morphine drip or covered in dark blue bruises and heavy white bandages. "I thought – I thought you were going to… You know."

Jesse kisses her forehead, fingers tracing a soothing beat through her hair. "And leave you here with an incomplete movication? Never."

"Jesse," she sighs, shifting carefully so she can lean up without hurting him. She can just make out the white of his eyes, reflecting in the cracks of light through the closed blinds. "I'm serious. I was really, really scared."

"I know," he says heavily. "I wish I could go back and kick myself awake for you."

"Me too."

The silence wraps around them again, and Beca listens to the beating of his heart, letting the sound lull her into a sense of safety and security. With every pump comes a reminder that he is alive and that he's with her, but just to make sure, she runs her palm up and down his arm, letting herself feel the warmth of his sensitive skin.

"I saw this brown brick house, with a red front door and these little gnomes around a pond by the pathway to the porch," she confesses after some time has passed and Jesse's breathing is perfectly even. "When I opened the door, this dog came skidding into the hallway in excitement and scared the cat lazing on the stairs, and there was this ridiculous coat rack and all these pictures on the wall – It was gross, like something out of a 'How to be the Perfect American Family' guidebook – and I went into the kitchen and there you were. Jesse Swanson, the biggest kid in the world, losing a game of football to your infant son and daughter."

Beca looks up at him, taking in his closed eyes and gentle snoring, and she presses a kiss to the curve of his jaw. "I'm such a stereotype," she murmurs to his sleeping form. "What the hell have you done to me, James Swanson?"

* * *

Physio, for lack of a better phrase, sucks ass.

And she's not even the one getting it. She's just the one trying in vain to make this in anyway easier for him.

Jesse is constantly frustrated with himself. His body won't do what he wants it to, and everything is ten times harder than it should be – than it used to be – and every time his knee gives way or his shoulder locks up, he growls and grunts and smacks his hand against the wall. The therapist, Janine, is gentle and calm, easing him through, encouraging him, and Beca sits in the corner of the room, back to the wall, watching and trying not to let the pain she sees in him reflect in her. Jesse needs her to be strong for him, so she puts on a brave face and flashes him a smile every time he looks her way.

Since the hospital had let him go, she has become less his fiancé and more his 24 hour nurse. She doesn't mind too much. Their apartment building has a lift, so it's easier to wheel him between appointments, and she had sent his mother home a week prior, insisting she was capable of taking care of her son alone. Both their employers had been understanding, with Beca's work being sent home to complete while Jesse slept or watched his endless supply of movies.

Jesse cries out in pain, and Beca is pulled out of her thoughts to jump to her feet, rushing to his side as he clutches his left shoulder with his hand, doubling over as he breathes heavily through his teeth.

"Come on, Jesse, you can do this!" Janine's hand is on his back as Beca stops a few paces away.

"Stop pushing me! I can't do it, why can't you just face that?!" Jesse hisses angrily.

"Because it's not true. I know it's difficult, Jesse, but –"

"You know it's difficult?" Jesse straightens up a little, still holding onto his shoulder, a fire in his eyes that she's never seen. "What the hell do you know about it?"

"Jesse." Beca's hand gently rests over his right, drawing his anger away from the physiotherapist as he turns in surprise, like he'd forgotten she was here. "Jesse, take a breath."

He softens after a long moment, gazing into her eyes in a way that makes her uncomfortable but that she holds, exaggerating her breathing enough that he matches her, both inhaling deeply in time with each other. Lacing her fingers with his on his shoulder, she slowly curls her fingertips in to his palm, gently prying the hand away and to his side.

"Jesse," she whispers again. He swallows thickly, and there's emotion struggling to hide away from his expression that shows just how hard he is trying. Seeing how he watches her, how her touch is calming him, it occurs to her why he's always trying so hard – to appear strong and happy, to hide away the anger and the bitterness, to try and get past what his injuries are holding him back from. Jesse is trying to protect her.

It tears at her chest, but she keeps her exterior placid, instead offering him a watery smile.

Letting go of his hand, she presses her palm to his left hand instead, never breaking their locked gaze. "Jesse, hold my hand."

He frowns. "I can't."

"You can. I know you can." Beca places her other hand on his cheek and steps closer, their bodies mere millimetres apart. "All you have to do is curl your fingers."

"Beca." His voice is strained, the defeat growing in his eyes. "Please… I _can't_."

Rising to the balls of her feet, she closes her eyes with great effort and kisses him as meaningfully as she can.

His fingers twitch.

"I believe you can do this." Her palm presses harder against his. "Prove me right."

His bites his lip with the effort, and Janine is hovering close, preparing to cut in, but Beca is known for her determination, and she is determined to get him to this.

"Hold my hand," she says again, more force in her tone.

"I can't," he says through gritted teeth.

"Hold my hand, Jesse."

"Beca."

"Just hold my hand." Blue eyes bore into brown. Anger flashes, white hot and directed right at her.

"Stop _pushing _me."

"I'm not pushing you." Her lips narrow. "Just hold my hand Jesse, it's not like it's difficult."

"Beca," Janine says hesitantly, but Beca gives her a look that makes her back down.

"You have _no _idea," he growls at her. "You don't know what it's like Beca."

"So?" She shrugs. She sees him crack. "Stop being such a baby and just hold my hand."

"Beca, _stop_!"

She steps down. "Okay," she says simply, turning away.

"Don't walk away from me!" Jesse pulls her back to him. "You don't get to just give up!"

"I didn't!"

"Then don't walk away –" But he's stopped by her finger over his lips, a beaming smile growing over her face as she nods towards the floor. Jesse frowns, confused as to why she's smiling when he had thought they were arguing, and looks down.

There it is; his hand gripping hers.

"Oh my – That – What?" Jesse looks back to her, a delighted grin on his face that wipes out all the resentment. "I did it. _I did it!_"

"Yeah you did," she says smugly, biting her lip around her smile as he throws his good arm around her waist and hugs her with a giddy laugh.

Over his shoulder, Janine mimes an applause. "Thank you," she mouths.

* * *

"How did you know?"

Beca twists her head back to look up at him from her position beside him on the couch, laying across the worn cushions with her head in his lap and his hand in her hair. "Know what?" she asks sleepily when he doesn't continue.

"That you could get me to do it. Hold your hand."

Beca shrugs, turning back to Dorothy skipping up the yellow brick road. She runs her thumb along the side of his left hand. "Because I know you."

"But how did you know that I'd only manage it by getting angry?"

"I didn't make you angry." Her gaze is steady on the screen, her voice full of fake nonchalance. "If there's one thing I've learnt about you over all these years, it's that you love me. You love me enough to have waited all those months back in freshman year of college, and you love me enough to have been so… So patient with me. Throughout our time together, you've done nothing but wait for me, for marriage and whatever comes next and… Well, everything." She sighs softly, unsettled by how serious the conversation has become at her hand. "You sat outside our apartment for two days when I threw you out. Guys just… They don't just _do _that. I know that you love me, and that you're not about to let me leave any time soon. All I did was… Use that to my advantage."

Jesse is quiet for a long time, but she does not turn around. When he speaks, his voice cracks with something she can't detect. "So you used how I feel about you to make me angry?"

Beca rolls over, looking up at him as he smirks at her. "Well that's the mean way to put it…"

Laughing, he pulls gently at her chin until she's leaning up to him and he can hold her neck, kissing her sweetly. "Just one of the many reasons why I love you."

She blushes, settling back into her previous position and pulling the blanket up to her chin. "Shush, Dorothy's just about the meet the lion."

He laughs again in that way that lets her know he's about to say something ridiculously cheesy. "There really is no place like home."

* * *

"This is nice," Jesse comments in a forced casualness that makes her smile in amusement.

"Yeah; if you like over-the-top, clichéd, ridiculously expensive –" When Jesse stares pointedly at her, she stops and rolls her eyes. "Come on, you're telling me you'd like us to have this kind of wedding?"

He winces at the thought. "Well, no, but… It can give us ideas."

"On what _not _to do."

"I can't believe you are being so harsh about one of your best friends' wedding."

Beca looks around at the large ballroom they are standing in, the dinner tables now pushed away to create room for the large dance floor and DJ setup (Beca has left her laptop to reel out a few pre-mixed tracks while she has a break). Leaning into his chest, they watch Chloe spin giddily in her full skirted strapless wedding gown. There are fairy lights everywhere, and the amount of silky fabric adorning the walls and tables is enough to keep a sweat shop going for a good three months.

"I'm not being harsh, it's just not my personal taste. But it suits her." Beca shrugs. "This wedding _screams _Chloe."

Jesse smirks. "I wonder if Bill even got a look in."

"Nope." Beca grins back at Jesse as he starts swaying to a very familiar mix from many years before, and she turns in his arms to lean up and gently kiss him, her blue bridesmaid dress swooshing with the movement (she had firmly put her foot down when pink was suggested). Jesse stares at her in that adoring way she's taken seven years to become even remotely comfortable with. She bites her lip, blushes, and looks away, remarking quietly, "I love you, you know."

"I know." When she looks back, his eyes are clouded with concern. "Is something wrong?"

Her hand trails with a ghostly force over his injured shoulder, thinking back on all the physical therapy and pain and frustration on both their parts. Through his suit, she can still feel the strappings that keep the fragile joint more secure. "I just…" Leaning into him so he can't see the worry lines creasing her face, she mumbles, "I was so close to losing you."

He hears, just about, enough that her fingers trail through the ends of her curled hair, and he clings to her tightly. There are no words he can say to heal the wound that his accident has left, no apologies or more treasured moments together to rid her mind of the memory of seeing him that way. Jesse will bear the physical scars for the rest of his life, but Beca will harbour the emotional ones forever.

Jesse tries anyway, peppering kisses on her cheeks, nose and finally, lips. "I can't imagine how terrified you must have been, Bec – Hell, the thought of the situation reversed…" Jesse's face twists nauseously and she kisses him again in reassurance. "Point being, just… Remember that I'm here still. I will always be here, and we will always be together; even when we've taken our last breaths, I believe that we will be together in whatever comes next. You and I… We're destiny. And that means you can't get rid of me even if you wanted to."

He looks so serious, so determined for her to understand, that the moment presses down her unbearably until tears are leaking from her eyes and she's thrown herself even closer to him, clinging to his neck and whispering, "Good thing I don't want to then, hey?"

Jesse chuckles and opens his mouth to reply, but they are interrupted by the enigma that is Not-So-Fat-Anymore Amy (she blames her sister for having babies and having to chase them around the Australian outback for hours on end. Beca thinks it's more to do with her job as a personal trainer, of all things). "Come on, lovebirds. This is Chloe's wedding, not yours. Let's go get funky!" And just before she's walked away, Amy turns back and quickly adds, "Oh, and Beca, Chloe is requesting a Bellas reunion on the karaoke so… Get that flatbutt moving."

Amy drags Beca's arm, tearing her away from Jesse's hold, and Beca shots him a look that says _No karaoke at our wedding. Ever. _Jesse eagerly nods and waves her goodbye.

* * *

"You bought us a house." She stares blankly at the scene before her. "You just… Went out and bought us a house."

"Yes."

The tiny little brownstone is watching her, with its peeling white frame windows and creaking, aged front door. The front yard is blanketed in red and orange leaves, almost completely hiding the little pavestone path up the lawn to the narrow little porch. The roof has missing tiles and there's a smashed pane of glass in one of the upstairs windows, and she's pretty sure that's a wasp's nest peeking out of the guttering.

It's beautiful.

"Jesse…" She is about to argue, to tell him off for going behind her back this way, but she can feel herself… She'd never known it was actually possible to fall in love with a piece of property, but that's the only way to describe the way her heart beats faster every time she blinks and the house doesn't disappear. Instead, she weakly tries to argue, "There's no way we can afford this. Not after all your medical bills and your therapies and all the time off work…"

"I've sorted it." Beca raises her eyebrows in concern, unable to look away from what might just be their dream house and see the smirk she can hear in his voice. "It's fine, Bec. So we take out a mortgage and a tiny loan from my parents? It's not that big a deal."

"Jesse!" She spins around to face him, appalled. "We can't be in that much debt! You're still paying off student loans!" He shrugs, running his hands down her arms to lace their fingers together. "Are you crazy?!"

"I'm crazy about _you_."

She shakes her head. "This isn't the time to –"

"Beca, six months ago, I saw how short life can be." When she winces, he squeezes her hands. "We've been stuck in that tiny apartment for too long. We're getting married, Bec. We need a _home_. I'm not wasting any more time – we love each other, we're together, we're making more money now, even if there's been a few complications along the way. The house needs a lot of work, and it's not going to be an easy job, but we can get family and friends involved and we can get this back to its former glory – this house can be _ours _Beca. Don't you want that?"

Damn him and his eternal optimism.

Biting her lip, she looks at the splintered fencing and the gate hanging precariously from one of its rusted hinges. "You're still healing," she feebly offers up as an argument.

"I'll take it easy at first. And Benji can help! He definitely owes me." Jesse's eyes are alight with the passion of his mission, trying so desperately to make her see what he sees, and she does – she sees it all, can see how beautiful they can make this house with a bit of TLC and a lot of hard work… But as the self-declared pessimist of their relationship, she sees the flaws he's purposefully ignoring, and she feels them dig their claws in, making her doubt his dream.

"We can do this," he insists when he sees how hesitant she is, and the sincerity and the love in his eyes is enough. With extreme force she pushes the doubts away, letting his image become theirs, and with a nod of her head, Jesse whoops loudly and kisses her soundly, holding her to him ecstatically. She's too excited to even think about rolling her eyes and calling him a weirdo.

* * *

_Knock knock._

"Alright, guys, take five, get some coffee, we'll meet back for the instrumentals after." Beca lets go of the red button and leans back in her chair, stretching her arms above her head as she lazily calls, "Come in!"

Jesse's cheesy grin appears around the door. "There's my beautiful girl."

"What do you want?" she asks carefully with a roll of her eyes. Jesse steps into the room, kissing her in greeting.

"What, a man can't drop by his fiance's work for purely innocent reasons?"

An eyebrow arches in response. "We're not having sex in the cupboard again. It took weeks for those bruises to fade –"

"Okay that's not what I meant, but now you mention it…" Jesse leans over her in her chair, pressing her into the backrest as he kisses her passionately. Her fingers get lost in his hair and she welcomes the stress-relief that his touch brings her, his hands roaming along her sides, and a craving builds in her gut as she pulls him closer…

"Mm, no, Jesse, I can't," she says regretfully as she pushes him away with a hand on his chest. "I have so much work to do, maybe later –"

"Okay," he says in resignation, and he steps away to the little couch a few metres away, straightening out his shirt and falling heavily into the well-worn leather. "That actually isn't why I came. I wanted to remind you about dinner tonight."

Beca spins smoothly in her chair to face him again. "For our anniversary? It's cool, I remember." When it's Jesse's turn to raise an eyebrow in doubt, she grimaces guiltily. "Okay, so your mother reminded me with a card this morning - but I do know _now_!"

Jesse just laughs lightly, not at all surprised with her incompetence at remembering important dates. "Do you even know how many years?"

Beca looks to the ceiling as she calculates on her fingers. "Eight? No. Nine. Nine years." She looks at him in surprise. "Wow, nine years, has it really been that long?"

"Yup," he says with a smile, popping the 'p' in a way he knows annoys her. She'd comment, but she gets distracted by the realisation that they've been engaged for three years, and were together for six years _before _that… Nine whole years with Jesse. The thought makes her smile.

"Jeesh. Okay, well, I'm good with wherever you booked."

"And…" He stretches out the word, waiting for her to frown as she tries to think what else she might have forgotten. "We should probably discuss the wedding."

"The wedding?" Her frown deepens. "But we've been discussing it plenty."

Jesse shakes his head. "Not really, though. We actually need to focus on it; get the ball rolling. We've been sitting still and letting life's little obstacles get in the way –"

"- I'd hardly say your accident was a 'little obstacle' –"

"- When we should be focussing on getting it organised so we can be legally bound to each other."

She gives him an unamused look. "Don't describe getting married as legally bound."

"Point being," Jesse says with a wave of his hand, "That we should start talking about the future more. We live so much in the present that everything is getting away from us. Bec, we're 27 already, and there's so many things we haven't done."

Beca presses her fingers into her temple as a headache begins to grow behind her eyes. "I know what you're getting at, but we're not old, Jesse. 27 is nothing!"

"It's over quarter of a century."

She groans and turns back to her mixing board. "Can we focus on one thing at a time please? Wedding first. Sprogs later."

A ghost of a smile reflects in the glass window in front of her as Jesse watches her back. "I knew you were getting broody."

"I am _not _broody," she says indignantly.

"Please!" He just laughs when she chucks a crumpled up napkin his way. "You fawn over Aubrey's girls at every chance you get, and Stacie's little boy. Our old neighbour and her set of twins. When we went to visit Amy last month you were all over her niece and nephew, and what about when you were melting all over Donald's expecting girlfriend? There was Ashley's baby last Christmas and you were bouncing all over the place with Chloe last week when her test was positive, and that man from PR you were talking about whose wife is expecting their fourth –"

"Alright, for one, I get the picture so stop listing all the people we know with children," she snaps. Taking a breath, she continues more calmly, "And secondly; that doesn't mean I'm ready for us to have our own. Babies are fine when their other peoples, because you get to hold them when they're cute and give them back when they're a crying, poopy mess. I mean, come on, Jesse, it's taken me nine years to be okay with marriage; you think that babies are going to automatically come easily to me?"

"I'm not saying now, I just think we should talk about it." Jesse comes towards her to kiss the worry lines between her eyebrows away. "Don't get yourself so worked up. You don't need to panic; it's only a conversation." Chatter echoes through from the studio, and Jesse presses his lips to hers. "You need to get back to work, as do I. I love you, and I'll pick you up at six."

"I love you, too!" she calls after him, and sighs when the door gently closes behind him._Babies. Bluergh_.

* * *

_No fuss_, she told him. It has to be quiet, with no more than about a dozen people between them because the sure embarrassment it's most likely going to cause shouldn't be viewed by anyone that she can't lovingly yet violently threaten. There will be no overpriced dress and veil, no tuxes, no flowers or bridesmaids or best men or elaborate cakes or basically any kind of wedding staple. She wants minimal; she wants to put her signature next to his and have a crap ton of alcohol and that is as far as she will let it go.

She gets about two and a half of these wishes granted.

Really, Beca should have known; who takes a pre-wedding vacation to Greece anyway? Jesse had insisted it would be good for them, and she had suspected that he'd wanted to calm her nerves a little before they returned and visited the courthouse. She'd let him drag her to the airport and force her to watch all these ridiculous movies (suspiciously marriage-themed) and she'd let him babble away about a thousand different things on the drive to their little hotel, hidden away in some remote area that she thought was actually pretty perfect.

But then, four mornings into their fortnight away, Beca had woken up without him, and, instead, to Chloe's face looming alarmingly close over her, a manic smile on her face with eyes full of pure evil, a collection of make-up brushes in one hand and curling tongs in the other ("What are you doing here?!" she'd shrieked, jumping up and spotting even more of her college acapella group crowding the door. Chloe had shrugged, informing her that they were her "unofficial bridesmaids" before yanking the sheets away and literally dragging her out of bed), and she had realised the horrific truth all too late.

Jesse was essentially forcing a beach wedding on her.

(No, there definitely was _not _a part of her that was a tiny bit impressed that he'd managed to successfully keep the whole thing a secret. Because she could read that boy like the back of her hand, and yet she'd missed every single suppressed sign…)

She'd hated him for the two whole hours she got forced into a chair and attacked with all these torturous devices. She'd hated him when Stacie forced this Grecian styled, white and floaty floor length dress over her head. She'd hated him when she looked in the mirror and saw her own (admittedly actually quite… _beautiful_) reflection.

She'd basically hated him the entire morning, right up until the second she had been led to the end of the little wooden aisle, flanked by a dozen or so fold out chairs full of their friends and family, and she'd seen him standing at the end of the walk under this flowery archway with his ridiculous grin, completely confident in himself and looking _far _too good in a white shirt and beige trousers.

Then… Or now, really… Well, she doesn't think she's ever loved him more.

"You look beautiful, Beca," her dad whispers gruffly as he holds out his arm.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about this," she complains quietly, but she loops her arm through his anyway, blushing as he looks away to hide his watery eyes.

Walking down the aisle after her now-official bridesmaids in their matching but colour-alternating dresses, her hands shake at her side. Her face is a scarlet red with part-embarrassment, part effort to not let this emotional grin actually break her face.

Which is probably why, as soon as she reaches him, she aims a forceful punch right into his good shoulder.

"_Ow!_" he exclaims as he rubs it through his shirt, cautiously backing away a half-step as she glares at him with shiny eyes. "Honestly, woman, why do you have to be so vicious?"

"What the hell is all this?!" She gestures around them, to the man holding an open book with eyes full of panic; to the little gathering of their favourite people, who are watching and laughing (apart from Jesse's mother, who is already crying); to the dress and the archway and the bridesmaids' outfits and the waves gently lapping at the shore.

"It's a wedding," he says with this smartass smirk she wants to kiss right away.

Beca rolls her eyes. "I can see that. I meant why are we a part of it."

Jesse steps closer, taking her hand and interlocking their fingers gently. "We're not so much a part of it as the main attraction."

She tries to pull her hand away, but his gentle grip is surprisingly strong. "You promised…"

But she can't finish her sentence, because he's staring at her in that way that makes her feel vulnerable and terrified and loved and safe, like she's the only person in the world he truly gives a damn about, and… Well, since they're already _here_, and everyone's made the effort…

"I can't believe you did this," she says instead, and his smirk slowly grows into an elated grin, one she mirrors because how can she _not_. It makes it pretty difficult to kiss him when he pulls her closer by her hand, but they make it work.

* * *

"Are you sure you have to go?"

"You know I do." Jesse's bottom lip juts out and she kisses it gently, smiling softly up at him as his arms around her waist tightens, trying to imprison her there. Beca shakes her head as he starts to widen his eyes, cutting off his puppy dog eyes and inwardly cursing Shrek 2 for teaching him that trick. "It's only for a few days, you'll be fine."

"Beca," he sighs her name, using one hand to try and relinquish her hold on the small suitcase beside them. "I won't be fine, you know I won't. Who's going to stop the kitchen fires or the bathtub floods if you're not there?"

Kissing him quickly again, she uses the loosened hold around her to her advantage and slips out of his grip. "You're just going to have to be extra careful then."

Jesse's fingers stay tight around hers, trapping her hand around the extended handle of the suitcase. "Do you promise to come back to me? You won't run off with any handsome Englishmen?"

Rolling her eyes (she knows he's just talking now in the hope of keeping her around a tiny bit longer), she lets him eagerly pull her back to him. "I chose you over Luke, didn't I?"

"Yeah you did," he says smugly against her lips, kissing her gently. "It's because of my sweet moves, right?"

Beca slaps his chest as he starts swaying his hips right there in the middle of the airport, trying not to laugh at the self-righteous grin that takes over his face. "I'm starting to think I made the wrong choice."

She feels his smile against the skin nape of her neck as he clings to her. "Now I_ know _you don't mean that."

"Jesse," she groans, but it tails off into a breathy chuckle as his eyelashes purposefully tickle her, "You have to let me go or I'm going to miss my flight."

"That's the plan."

"I'll get fired."

"Then you'd never have to leave me."

"If I get fired we can't afford our mortgage." He shrugs, still busy running his lips up her neck, and she knows she's going to have to bring out the big guns. "Without my income, we'll have to sell your movies to pay -"

"Fine." He groans unhappily, lifting his head from her shoulder to give her one last lingering kiss. "I'll miss you."

Beca smiles at the adorably distraught look on his face. "You better." Extracting herself from his hold again, she brushes her hair away from her face nervously – her first international gig, no pressure – and offers him one more smile. "Okay, I'm going. Be good?"

"I always am."

"There's dinner in the fridge, all you have to do is put it in the microwave," she tells him, stepping back slowly.

"Beca, I'll be fine, I promise. I think I can look after myself for four days." She raises an eyebrow, remembering the words he had said to her not a few minutes before about fires and floods.

"Benji will be over tomorrow just to make sure." Grimacing a little at the way he raises his eyebrow at her, she shrugs. "What? Someone has to make sure you don't burn down the whole building." She snaps her fingers. "Oh! And make sure to take off the foil covering the plate before you heat it up."

Jesse closes the small gap she had managed to put between them, rubbing at the furrow between her eyebrows with his thumb. "Stop worrying and go get on that plane before I change my mind, throw you over my shoulder, and race you straight back home."

Kissing him hard, she feels herself relax with every stroke on her hip bone from his strong fingers. Jesse will be fine without her (but will she be fine without him? It's a whole new country thousands of miles away, and she's become rather clingy on the nerd - will she be okay without him holding her hand on the flight as she panics about an engine falling off or the back of the plane ripping off or somehow crash landing on a deserted island where they'd get attacked by polar bears and smoke monsters and kidnapped by -)

"You're worrying again aren't you?" His fingers slip between hers and he brings their joined hands up, kissing her knuckles lovingly. "The plane is fine; you can do this, okay? _Lost_ was just a tv show, things like that don't happen –"

She cuts him off with a glare, doubt still lingering in her expression, but takes a deep breath before letting go of his hand and shaking her shoulders to get rid of the residing tension. Jesse gives her an encouraging smile. "I love you."

Jesse grins at her. "I love you too. Now go!"

* * *

Beca's never really seen herself as the 'mommy' type. Where a mother is supposed to be warm and open and nurturing, Beca keeps more to herself. Sometimes, she finds it difficult to look after even herself - never mind another life. She is more driven by her career than her uterus. In her mind, love is not handed out on a whim; you have to earn it.

And even though she's really, _really _mad at Jesse, she can feel herself melting into a pile of warm goo on the original floorboards of their home, because those big brown eyes are staring up at her so desperately…

"Fine," she growls, shifting her gaze away from the cocker spaniel puppy in fear that her heart might explode in her chest. "You can keep the damn dog."

Jesse grins up from where he has been crouched in the hallway, making ridiculous baby noises, for twenty minutes. "I knew you couldn't resist." And then he turns to the puppy again, rubbing her tummy as her tail wags into a blur. "I told you she'd love you, didn't I? Yes I did. Yes I did!"

"Oh my God…" Beca rolls her eyes, wandering off into the kitchen. The sound of claws tapping wood follows her, and she looks down to find the puppy, who Jesse has already decided to call Maisy, looking up at her imploringly. A pained pause begins, as Beca tries to look away and Maisy just seems to stare harder, until she's on her back and Beca is gingerly petting her.

"Shut up," Beca mumbles when she feels rather than sees Jesse's ecstatic smile.

* * *

Owning a dog is harder than she thought it would be.

"Maisy!" Beca shouts. "Maisy, come here!"

Guilty puppy eyes appear around the door frame of the living room, tan ears extra droopy, to see Beca pointing at the sofa with a scowl on her face. "Maisy, what is this?"

Maisy creeps around the door slowly, edging towards her on sad, oversized paws.

Beca glances helplessly between the eight month old puppy and the tattered remains of one of her most prized record sleeves. The water stops running upstairs, and instantly she is demanding the presence of the other guilty party.

Jesse wanders in a few minutes later with his towel wrapped around his waist, a questioning eyebrow raised until he sees the mess on the couch and the quivering body of the puppy he had promised would be as good as gold. Beca fights hard against the smile at how his eyes widen and he as wallows nervously, offering her a grimace as his wet hair falls onto his forehead.

"What are you going to do about this?"

Glancing between them, Jesse shrugs and bends to pick Maisy up, tucking her under one arm and scratching behind her ears with his other hand.

"Jesse!"

"What?" He shrugs again. "She's a puppy, and she's teething. Give her a break!"

Beca balks. "Are you serious?! That used to be my limited edition Johnny Cash! Do you know how expensive that was?!"

"I'll buy you another one if it's that important."

"I'm serious, Jesse," Beca says angrily. "I'm fed up of that dog. Take her back to the shelter."

Jesse gasps dramatically and presses Maisy's head against his chest, covering her ears. "Beca, don't say such things!"

Her fingers rake through her hair. "She's ruined three rugs by peeing on them, as well as chewing on your desk and my record. _And _she's been digging up the garden again. She's a menace!"

Jesse keeps quiet, calculating just how serious her threat is. He sighs after a long moment, walking Maisy towards the couch so she can see the chewed up remains of the record. "Maisy," he says too seriously, "This is very naughty. Bad dog!"

The dog presses her white head into his chest again.

"Yeah, I know you're sorry, but there's no use saying it to me. It's mommy's record, and you need to say you're sorry to her, too."

Beca crosses her arms as Jesse turns towards her, holding Maisy out towards her until a pink tongue makes contact with her nose. "I'm sorry, mommy," Jesse says in a squeaky voice, and Maisy increases the intensity of her imploring gaze until Beca has given in and ruffled her ears, glaring at Jesse over the spaniel's head.

"You're unbelievable," she says, but Jesse just grins at her, placing Maisy on the floor so he can wrap his arms around her and kiss her soundly. His hair is wet under her hands, but she gives in anyway – because that's what she is now, a soppy mess – and the towel drops to the floor, Maisy squeaking in surprise from underneath.

* * *

"So," Stacie says as her wine glass clinks against her wedding band, "You and Jesse are finally playing happy families, huh?"

"No," she responds immediately, but her gaze is locked on Maisy as she darts around the garden after the gaggle of children at the barbeque.

"You know, it's only a matter of time before he talks you into babies, too."

Beca chokes on her sip of wine and Stacie pats her back lightly, smirking as the smaller brunette splutters. "No!" she says weakly around her coughs. "Jesse knows my feelings on kids."

"Honey, I don't think even _you _know your feelings on them."

"Don't be stupid." When Stacie continues to look pointedly at her, Beca nudges her with her elbow. "Please, Stace, it's not something I'm exactly programmed for, is it?"

Stacie shrugs. "Neither was I, but look at me now; three and half."

As Stacie rubs her swollen belly, Beca watches Maisy again, tongue lolling out of her mouth as she runs about happily. At eighteen months, she is almost fully grown, but she still has the demeanour of the little ball of fur Jesse bought home a year ago. She's mischievous but cuddly, and Beca is actually quite fond of returning home after a long day at work to fall into the Couch, Maisy settling over her lap dot be stroked. Their system means that Jesse generally plays with her until her energy is depleted, and then Beca gets the calm, sleepy dog that she can relax with and not have to worry about discovering another one of Jesse's chewed slippers.

Across the garden, she catches Jesse watching her, and she feels a hint of déjà vu as he winks at her across the space.

"Face it," Stacie continues, "You're not getting any younger and –"

"Stacie, I'm only thirty." Yet Beca winces, because it seems like only yesterday that she was grumpy eighteen year old with an attitude problem.

"And you've been with Jesse for what, twelve years?"

"Eleven."

"Whatever. Point being; when are you gonna pop out some sprogs for him?"

Beca casts a glance back to her friend doubtfully. "Having kids is a little bit more meaningful than that."

Stacie laughs, her long hair falling over her shoulder across her cosy jumper. "Yes, I suppose. I really think you'd make a great mother, though. I mean, look at how happy you've made Maisy!" Her hand raises to point at the dog that is darting between their large group of friends, sniffing at greasy fingers and for the possibility of dropped food.

"What's up, girls?" Jesse appears behind them, an arm around both their shoulders, innocent brown eyes flicking between them.

"Oh, nothing much," Beca says casually, leaning into him so she can't see Stacie roll her eyes. Jesse glances suspiciously between them again but says nothing more, and Beca excuses herself to talk to Chloe, curled up in a garden chair away from the rest of the group. She hopes that maybe now she can get the thought of babies off of her brain.

* * *

Nine days later, Beca is staring at the positive pregnancy test in a state of complete disbelief.

"Fuck," she whispers as she mindlessly pets Maisy lying beside her, and then, much louder, yells, "Jesse!"

Remembering that he isn't actually home, she rushes to her phone downstairs to call him up, and fifteen minutes later, he crashes through the front door, a panicked expression accompanying him as he skids to a stop in the kitchen.

"Beca?" Her back is to him, her breathing level to keep herself calm, but his hand lands on her back and she wonders idly if the baby can feel it, and then she goes into overdrive.

"Woah!" Jesse steps back as she spins around in the breakfast bar stool, wide eyes watching him nervously as she wordlessly hands him the stick.

He stares for a long, long time, the atmosphere heavy and full of something she can't put her finger on.

"You're…" His voice cracks and he coughs to clear his throat. "Beca, you're… We're having a baby?"

Beca takes a deep breath. "Yes."

He finally looks up at her, eyes shining. "You're pregnant?"

"Five tests can't be wrong." Pulling the other tests out of her pocket, Jesse grabs them eagerly, eyes scanning over the five little pink pluses. She braces herself for the no doubt very energetic reaction.

"Fuck."

A smile flickers across her face. "That's what I said." He's still standing perfectly still, and fear niggles at her insides. "Jesse, please react."

Another pause.

Arms wrap around her and the stool disappears underneath her, and he laughs giddily into her ear as he spins her around. "Beca, I can't believe this!"

She clings to him, hoping to hide her nerves from his ever-observant eyes, but when he puts her down to look at the sticks again, he spots it as she half-expected him to.

"Beca?" He strokes her cheek, his tone loving and gentle. "It's okay to be excited. This is good news."

She chews on her lip. "Is it?" She can't help the doubt leaking through her defences, because she's scared and has no idea what she's supposed to do. "What if we're not ready?"

"We're ready," he says immediately. He points at the ball of fluff in the corner, chewing on a toy, completely unaware of the life changing moment. "If we can look after Maisy, we can raise a baby."

"They're not really the same thing."

"Bec, we can do this." His lips press to her forehead as he pulls her in for a hug. "You're going to be an amazing parent, I just know it. This baby is so lucky to have you."

Burying her face into his shoulder, she lets herself believe him, even if just for a minute or two, and sure enough, a flicker of excitement ignites in her stomach. She's got Jesse, after all. They can totally do this, right?


End file.
